The Tribbiani Trifecta
by Helga Von Nutwimple
Summary: Monica and Chandler -- soulmates? Phoebe sure doesn't think so. As their wedding day approaches, Phoebe hatches Her Ultimate Plan... but what is she really up to?
1. PART ONE: The Tribbiani Trifecta

This story takes place very early in Season Seven. Chandler and Monica are engaged; Rachel has moved in with Joey, but has not yet gotten pregnant or hired Tag. Standard disclaimer applies.  
  
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Rachel collapsed into the Barcalounger and leaned her head back against the cool brown leather.   
  
She cracked open her beer, laughing a little to herself at how Joey had rubbed off on her. Six months ago, a day this hellish at work would have sent her straight to Bloomingdale's with credit cards blazing. Now here she was, with an extra-large pizza, a twelve-pack of Southpaw, and the entire Die Hard series on DVD.  
  
She had to admit, Joey's way was quite a bit easier on her bank account.  
  
She wasn't surprised when Chandler slammed in -- if he'd ever learned to knock, he'd done an amazing job of forgetting.  
  
"Where's Joey?"  
  
"He's on a date. Where's Monica?"  
  
"She's in our apartment. She just threw a flower arrangement at my head. Call me crazy, but I think the wedding stress might be getting to her."  
  
"Well, I'm in the middle of a serious de-stressing myself. Want a beer?"  
  
"Dear God. Pizza, beer, and Bruce... the Tribbiani Trifecta," Chandler said reverently, pulling up a stool. "My respect for you grows by leaps and bounds."  
  
"I still hate Baywatch," Rachel replied.  
  
"Ah, well," Chandler sighed, opening his beer. "No one's perfect."  
  
***  
  
Six hours, countless explosions, the case of beer and an entire extra-large pepperoni behind them, Chandler had lost the ability to sit on his stool correctly and was stretched out on the rug with Hugsy for a pillow.  
  
"You know," Rachel hiccupped, rummaging through the cabinets, "It's kind of weird... you've been gone a looong time. What's Monica doing that you get to stay out so late?"  
  
"Well, you know, I cleaned up my room and *totally* aced my history test, so I got an extra hour added to my curfew."  
  
"Oh, well, I think you're about to be grounded, young man... 'cause I just found the hard stuff."  
  
She pulled out a dusty green bottle, and Chandler shuddered.  
  
"Ah, lukewarm Jager from 1992. An excellent year!"  
  
"Easy for you to say," Rachel laughed as she poured shots into mismatched Garfield glasses. "You weren't sleeping with an orthodontist."  
  
"That's true, although interestingly enough, my right hand *also* cheated on me with a bridesmaid."  
  
"Well, hold it out. I'll punish it."  
  
Chandler laughed as she slapped the Garfield glass into his palm. "Yeah, but what did my *mouth* do to deserve this?"  
  
Rachel slid into the Barcolounger. "For starters, it still hasn't answered my question."  
  
"She said she was going to take some Valium and go to bed," Chandler replied, taking a sip and grimacing painfully.  
  
"Monica's on Valium?"  
  
"Her doctor prescribed it after The Veil Incident."  
  
"I never noticed..."  
  
"That's because Monica on Valium is like anyone else on PCP."  
  
Something in his voice made Rachel sit up a little straighter.  
  
"Um... how's it going between you guys?"  
  
"It's fine. She's stressed about the wedding. I'm sure she'll calm down once the wedding's over."  
  
Rachel nodded.  
  
"Or once we have kids. Or once we get old. Or once we die."  
  
"Ohhhhh."  
  
Chandler shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rachel, I shouldn't have said that."  
  
She waved her hand. "I knew you were kidding. And hey, we're friends."  
  
"Well, yeah. But Monica's your best friend. And we... I mean... this is the first time we've ever really hung out, alone. It's definitely the longest conversation we've ever had."  
  
He paused, hesitating. "I always got the impression that I annoyed you."  
  
"Well, you do -- sometimes. But I like you, Chandler... of course I do. We just never... I mean, I dated Ross, and I was roommates with everyone else but you. Circumstances made me closer to them. And... well... when you started dating Monica, I had to be careful."  
  
"Careful? Why?"  
  
"Um. Okay, now I'm the one feeling weird about saying stuff to you."  
  
"We'll make a pact. Nothing we say tonight leaves this room. Okay?"  
  
"Okay. Well, the thing is... Monica's always been a little paranoid about me stealing her boyfriends. I mean... in high school, I was a bitch. A huge bitch. Like, super-meca-bitch. You don't know."  
  
"I was roommates with Ross, remember?"  
  
"Okay, then, you *do* know. Anyway, I did some stuff back then that was really crappy, and now, you know, especially after Jean-Claude and stuff... I try to steer clear of anyone Monica's dating. Just on principle. I don't want her to have the slightest suspicion of anything, no matter how innocent. And if you've gotten the idea that I don't like you all that much... that's why."  
  
"You always acted like Richard was barely in the room," Chandler mused.  
  
"Well, I was usually screaming at Ross, so that took up most of my focus," she laughed.  
  
"You know, Rach -- Monica and I are going to be married soon. If there's a time for her paranoia to end, it's now. And it would be nice if we could all hang out together. Or if you and I could do this more often."  
  
"That's true. And you know... I'm having fun."  
  
She waited for him to crack a joke, but he just smiled.  
  
"You know... we're the only people we know with office jobs. Which means we're the only people with regularly-scheduled lunch hours. Want to have lunch tomorrow?"  
  
"That would actually be rather cool."  
  
***  
  
"So where you wanna eat?" she said into the phone, thumbing through her desk calendar.  
  
"Actually, I was going to see if you wanted to grab hot dogs from the cart and go to Bloomingdale's. They're having a huge sale on shoes."  
  
"Wait one minute. You WANT to go to Bloomingdale's and shop for shoes?"  
  
"Oh come on, Rachel. There's a *reason* people think I'm gay! Meet you at the cart in fifteen minutes?"  
  
***  
  
"Try these," he said, handing her the pair of pumps she'd spotted from across the store.  
  
"Okay, now I know you're gay," she grinned. "Your taste is way too good."  
  
"No way! I'm a burly, swaggering macho man who... just saw a pair of british flag bowling shoes! Excuse me, I'll be right back."  
  
She crossed to where he was admiring them. "Never mind, you're straight, those are hideous."  
  
"But they match my purse so well!"  
  
***  
  
Monica stabbed a forkful of Caesar Salad with just a bit too much force. "You know... I ought to thank you. You've done wonders for Chandler's work ethic."  
  
"Mmm?" Rachel replied, mouth full of chicken.  
  
"I think he goes to work just so he can go to lunch with you."  
  
Red flags went up all over Rachel's brain. She tried to sound as casual as possible. "Well, it's better than eating Ramen noodles alone at my desk again. It's kind of silly that we've worked down the street from each other for two years and never ate lunch together."  
  
"Yeah, that's... *funny*."   
  
Thwack! Another piece of romaine brutally speared.  
  
Rachel jumped a little at the lettuce's fate. She swirled a bite of chicken through her sauce and faked a yawn. "Yeah, it's too bad I won't get to do it so much anymore."  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
"Yeah, I've got a big project coming up. Gotta burn some lunchtime oil. And you know... I mean... I know you love him and all, but joke-joke-joke-joke-joke, you know? If I wanted a comedy act during lunch, I'd go to the Stand-Up Cafe and get seasoned fries with it."  
  
Monica visibly relaxed. "Annoying you, huh?"  
  
"Yeah... a little... are you mad at me?"  
  
"Oh, no, sweetie! I know Chandler gets on your nerves sometimes, it's okay."  
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Monica grinned. She gave Rachel a little pat on the arm.  
  
***  
  
"What's this?" Chandler asked, adjusting his tie.  
  
"It's your very own, brand-new, Spiderman lunchbox!" Monica chirped, brandishing it in his face.  
  
"Oh, honey... it's so sweet of you to pack me lunch, but I promised Rachel we'd go to the Thai place for lunch today."  
  
"Actually, Rachel asked me to tell you that she had to cancel. She can't make it today."  
  
"Oh. Well, I guess we can go tomorrow. In that case, thank you very much!"   
  
He took the lunchbox from her and pecked her on the cheek. "You're awesome. A Spiderman lunchbox! How cool is my fiancee?"  
  
"Actually, Rachel can't make it tomorrow either."  
  
"Later this week, then."  
  
"Or later this week."  
  
He paused. "What's going on?"  
  
"Well, she's really busy at work, and..."  
  
Chandler gave her a dubious look.  
  
"Actually, sweetie. Please don't take this the wrong way, okay? I think maybe Rachel's feeling... a little over-Chandlered."  
  
His face fell. "She's sick of me?"  
  
"No, no! She didn't say that! It's just that, you know, maybe she should have lunch with other people sometimes."  
  
His eyes grew hard. "I get it."  
  
"Sweetie, wait..."  
  
"No, that's okay. I appreciate you trying to spare my feelings. You're very sweet. And this is the best lunchbox in the world, and I love you to little bits, okay?"  
  
"We should talk. Chandler, c'mon, wait a sec, let's talk..."  
  
"I'm late for work. I'll call you later. I love you..."  
  
He kissed the side of her mouth and headed out the door like the last kid picked for dodgeball.  
  
***  
  
Chandler had to smile when lunch rolled around and he opened his box at his desk. Monica had taken special care with it; there was a tiny quiche, a little container of soup, some homemade rolls and a note she'd drawn hearts on.  
  
He had the best fiancee in the world. How many women would buy him a Spiderman lunchbox to let him know he was loved on a day he was feeling down?  
  
Still, he felt pretty crappy. The quiche was excellent, like everything Monica cooked... but he still wished he was out with Rachel. He hadn't gotten any work done all morning -- even less than usual -- wondering what he had done to annoy her so much, and had picked up the phone to call her office at least seven times.  
  
He'd always put it back down again, though. If she was feeling over-Chandlered, the last thing she wanted was him to call her and annoy her more.  
  
***  
  
Rachel picked up the phone, stared at it, put it down again.  
  
She had gotten in the habit of making a mental list of funny stories to tell Chandler... for every cruddy, chaotic, and catastrophic thing that happened in the office, she sifted through it, finding the funny angle, saving it for him. She hadn't realized how much it brightened her day, how much her outlook improved when she saw everything as a potential joke rather than something to freak out about.  
  
But Monica was her best friend, and she couldn't risk jeopardizing that. If she kept seeing Chandler, it would upset Monica, and neither of them wanted that to happen.  
  
She stirred her Ramen and concentrated, calling up an image of Chandler across her desk. Mentally, she began to tell him about her hilarious day.  
  
"Could you BE any more pathetic?" dream-Chandler answered, and poofed out of existence.  
  
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To be continued... 


	2. PART ONE: The Whole Kip & Kaboodle

Monica stood at the counter of Dean & Deluca, revising menus in her head. If they were out of the beluga, maybe she could serve it grilled instead of...  
  
"Monica? Um, Monica Geller?"  
  
She whirled, eyes widening. "Kip! Wow, Kip... I haven't seen you in forever. How's the wife?"  
  
"She's good, she's excellent. We have a little girl who's two, and -- whoa, look at the rock on *your* finger! Who's the lucky guy?"  
  
"Actually, it's Chandler."  
  
Kip laughed. "You know, I've missed your sense of humor. How is old Chandler, anyway? Does that creep still have my hibachi?"  
  
"I think so... but Kip, I wasn't kidding. Chandler's who I'm engaged to."  
  
"I hate to think anyone else would do that to their kid, but... you are speaking of Chandler Bing, right?"  
  
"Yes, of course... why?"  
  
"Well, it's just... I totally can't imagine you and Chandler together. Did you have some kind of 'if we're not married when we're thirty' pact?"  
  
"Did you walk all the way over to the caviar section *just* to offend me?"  
  
Kip's face softened. "Hey, Mon, I'm sorry. It's just a little unbelievable. Make it up to you... I'll buy you a cup of coffee. You guys still drink coffee all the time, right?"  
  
***  
  
"So, how are Ross and Carol doing? Any kids for them yet?" Kip asked, somewhat muffled by his latte.  
  
"Ah, well, yes... they have a son named Ben."  
  
"That's great!"  
  
"Which Carol raises with her lesbian lifemate Susan."  
  
Kip grabbed a napkin to clean up the coffee he'd just spit all over himself. "You *wanted* me to do that."  
  
"It's been like... six *years* since I got to do that to someone, c'mon, can you blame me?"  
  
"So... you're seriously marrying Chandler, you weren't just trying to make me spit something?"  
  
"You didn't have anything in your mouth at the time. C'mon, what's so hard to believe about me and Chandler? He isn't gay, I swear."  
  
"It's just... you know. Kinda like hanging a beer mirror in the Louvre. Or serving salmon mousse with a Jell-o salad. I mean... you're so... little black dress. And he's so... bowling shirt."  
  
"You really think I'm a... little black dress?"  
  
"Of course! I mean, you're this gorgeous, sophisticated, fabulous chef. He's this... endlessly joking dweeb who's trapped in a middle management job because he doesn't have the balls to look for anything better. I mean... you followed your dream, and he's sucking up to middle management and fiddling with his WENUS."  
  
Monica snorted, then caught herself. "Out of loyalty to my fiancee, we're both gonna pretend I didn't laugh at that, okay?"  
  
"And I mean, please, the issues! What's the divorce rate in this country? Like, fifty percent? And he just milks it and milks it and milks it. Poor little me, my incredibly wealthy parents split up, I got sent to the most exclusive boarding school in the country, waaah,  
oh boo, my mother's famous, it's so embarrassing, poor little me. Ooh, I'm boycotting Thanksgiving, forget what your holiday plans were, pay attention to me, pay attention to me!"  
  
Monica opened her mouth to rise to Chandler's defense, but Kip cut her off.  
  
"And you know, I just think of you, Monica... so kind and sweet and giving... trapped with him. You know, what if you have kids? There you'll be, in agony, pushing his children into the world... and there he'll be, in the waiting room, yukking it up for the crowd!"  
  
"But..."  
  
"And do you really think he's going to help you with the kids? Chandler? He *is* a kid! Can you actually see the man changing a diaper? And how are the kids going to feel, with Daddy making *fun* of them all the time? You know the man can't go five minutes without a put-down, do you really think he'd be able to hold off eighteen years?"  
  
Kip took both her hands in his. "It's just... I remember you, you know? You're so classy, so sophisticated, so elegant. I always assumed you'd marry someone like you... someone charming, someone who would take you abroad and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, someone intelligent, someone urbane."  
  
"Chandler is..."  
  
"Chandler is a twelve-year-old trapped in a man's body. I mean, the man thinks 'Archie' comics are high comedy, for crying out loud."  
  
"Look, Kip, I..."  
  
"It's just... the Monica I knew didn't like to lose. She had that fierce, proud, competitive spirit. She always went for the best, she always wanted to win. She never settled for anything. And now I see her losing, with a loser, giving up her dreams and taking the consolation prize of a dorky guy that she feels safe with, because she knows *he* can't do any better... that he'll be constantly amazed that he lucked out and got a prize he didn't deserve. And I just have to wonder... what happened to that Monica?"  
  
Kip leaned across the table and took both Monica's hands in hers, while she sputtered for a comeback.  
  
"What happened to you, Monica? Who hurt you so badly they killed your spirit? Who put out that flame, that amazing shining light that burned in you?"  
  
Monica wrenched her hands back angrily. "Look, Kip -- I don't know what you're trying to do here, but I think it sucks. I am happily engaged, and you're just... you're just an ass."  
  
"I'm *worried* about you," Kip soothed.  
  
"Well, you can take your worry and -- well, you can shove it, mister!" She grabbed her purse and stood up angrily. "And you know what? I'm *glad* you got phased out!"  
  
With that, Monica ran out of the coffeeshop, slamming the door behind her.  
  
Kip watched her go, a slow smile spreading across his face.  
  
"And that, Bing, is for taking my hibachi."  
  
---------------------------  
  
To be continued... 


	3. PART ONE: Those Meddling Kids

Monica let herself into the apartment, nearly stumbling back in surprise at the burst of noise inside.  
  
"Roooby-rooby-rooo!!!"  
  
"Rut roh!" Joey crowed. "Ronica's rome!"  
  
"Honey, it's a *marathon*," Chandler gushed.  
  
"And I woulda gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for those meddling kids!" Joey cackled.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, that's... that's great," Monica said, a little weakly. She moved into the kitchen, staying well away from the two figures bouncing up and down with glee upon the couch.  
  
"Dude, Daphne is *so* hot," Joey moaned.  
  
"I dunno, I always preferred Velma."  
  
"Oh you would. Velma is such a dork!"  
  
"You're a dork!"  
  
"No, you're a dork!"  
  
"You are!"  
  
"You are times infinity!"  
  
They began pelting each other with small brown objects. Monica checked the counter to confirm her suspicions. She tried to keep her voice calm.  
  
"Uhm. Sweetie? Are those... are those *truffles* you're throwing at each other?"  
  
"No way," Joey said, ducking a missile. "Truffles are chocolatey and good. These are some screwed-up cookies we found that taste like old dried-up mushrooms."  
  
"We were gonna use 'em for Scooby Snacks, but boy do they suck," Chandler added.  
  
"Joey," Monica said in the sweetest tone she could muster, "Chocolate truffles are named for the mushroom truffles. They are a very rare delicacy."  
  
"A rare delicacy that *sucks*," Chandler laughed.  
  
Monica snapped. "Chandler? That piece of 'suck' you just threw at Joey's head costs as much as the rent on the apartment."  
  
Chandler and Joey froze, eyes wide.  
  
"The restaurant let me take home a few ounces to work on a special. Now will you please *carefully* pick those up and bring them over here?"  
  
"Mon. Mon. I am so sorry. I am *so* sorry, we didn't know..." Chandler pleaded, dropping to his knees to pick up the small brown bits.  
  
"Chandler, I... I don't know what to say. But when you're done picking up the truffles, will you please get dressed?"  
  
Chandler looked down at his jeans and button-down in confusion.  
  
"Or did you *also* forget my parent's dinner tonight?" She searched his face and saw only blankness. "Their 34th wedding anniversary? The Country Club? Or did your excitement over Scooby-Doo completely blot that out for you?"  
  
***  
  
Monica sat at the country club table, chin in hand, watching Chandler and Ross discuss something over by the buffet. She was distracted by the clatter of Phoebe setting her plate down next to her.  
  
"Ahh, free food... the only thing that would make me be Ross' date to a party this boring," Phoebe sighed.  
  
"I don't think they really 'throw down' here at the country club, Pheebs," Monica sighed.  
  
"Okay, what's up with you? That's like, your fourteenth heaving sigh, and even this party's not *that* lame."  
  
"Oh... it's stupid. I ran into Kip today, and he put some thoughts into my head... stupid thoughts... I don't know, I shouldn't be thinking about this stuff."  
  
"Okay, spill."  
  
"Well, it's just... Kip kept talking about how sad it was that I'd settled for something safe with Chandler instead of pursuing a guy who was more of a match for me. And I thought he was insane, but then there was this truffle-throwing incident... and I just started thinking..."  
  
"Well, okay. If you'd just met Chandler... if you hadn't been friends with him first... would you date him? Y'know, maybe I set you up with him. And you go to the restaurant, and there he is."  
  
"I'd dump him after one date, and be pissed off at you."  
  
"Yeah, see, I knew you would."  
  
"But see, that's not the point. 'Cause now I know the real Chandler, the inner Chandler, and that's not something I could have found out on a first date, or... knowing Chandler... even a fifth. And isn't that better?"  
  
"Well, yeah. But you also have to eliminate the possiblity of a friendicrush."  
  
"A... what? Speak English."  
  
"You know, a friendicrush. You're friends with someone, you know them really well, there's no stupid datey crap, just closeness and niceness and talking, and they're always there for you, you know, you feel really safe with them, and you start thinking... wow, I wish I could have a relationship that was as cool as this friendship."  
  
"Go on."  
  
"Y'know, you love them, but you don't looooove them, but it's not that hard to move from love to a place that's sort of in-between love and loooove, I mean, all you do is sprinkle a little sex on top. They're all warm and safe, and you know they love you just the way you are and aren't going to be surprised by anything you throw at them. I mean, it's not as, you know, crushingly achingly wonderful as looooove, but it's not as scary and doesn't hurt so much either."  
  
Phoebe crunched down on a carrot stick. "The thing is, then you're stuck. 'Cause if you meet someone you loooooove, what are you gonna do? Dump them, which sucks enough, but then you also have to hurt your friend? I mean, you go around hating people for dumping your friends, and then you have to *be* that person."  
  
"I-Is that what you think Chandler and I are? A-a 'friendicrush'?"  
  
"Look. Do you want my honest opinion, or the one you want to hear?"  
  
Monica sighed. "The honest one... I think."  
  
"Okay then, and you can't hit me. Sit on your hands."  
  
Monica rolled her eyes.  
  
"Sit on your hands, or I'm not saying anything else."  
  
Monica dutifully tucked her hands beneath her sides.  
  
"Okay. Y'know, you've told me the real story of how you hooked up in London. You were depressed, you were looking for Joey, Chandler happened to be there. Do you *really* think 'Oh, what the hell, any dong'll do?' is what you'd be thinking when you made love with your soulmate for the first time?"  
  
"Well, no, not really."  
  
"I remember when you and Richard broke up. You didn't eat, you couldn't sleep, you smoked cigars, you cried all the time... you left ridiculous messages on his machine, you were clutching the man's drain hair. Y'know, you break up with Chandler, you play craps."  
  
"The chip was lying on the floor, a-a-and then I was on a roll!"  
  
"And if I can bring one more thing up, pretty much every fight you and Chandler have ever had has been about... Richard. And when you were mad at Chandler, you went running to... Richard."  
  
"Okay, stop saying that name."  
  
"Richard!"  
  
"I said stop it!"  
  
"... it's so good to see you," Phoebe continued.  
  
"Monica. Phoebe," Richard smiled. "I just came over to say hello... Jack and Judy really wanted me to come. I know it's weird, but I thought it'd be less weird than pretending I didn't see you."  
  
"Phoebe, you look lovely... Monica, you look..." he broke off. "Yeah, I'll be over there with the old folk."  
  
Richard walked away, and Monica finally allowed her eyes to bulge out.  
  
"Oh my god, Phoebe!" she hissed. "How much did he hear?"  
  
"Um, judging by how incredibly happy he looked? I'd say, pretty much all of it."  
  
--------------  
  
To be continued... 


	4. PART ONE: The Puppetmaster

"Oh hey... Richard's here," Ross said, biting into a square of cheese.  
  
"Oh great. Just perfect, this is perfect. Does the man have some kind of radar? I mean, Monica and I fight, and The Richard Signal beams out over the city?"  
  
"Wow, Chandler, you're right. It's Mom and Dad's party, he's Dad's best friend... he must be here *just* to torture *you*!"  
  
"Well, he doesn't have to look so damn good doing it," Chandler snapped, patting his suit self-consciously. "I mean, look at him. He's all out there, dancing, *not* looking like a spastic gorilla... all suave and moustach-y. And he can't even be an ass, no, he has to be this really great guy who's nice to me all the time."  
  
"Yeah, how dare he."  
  
"So uh... how come you brought Pheebs instead of Rachel? Rach usually eats this country club stuff up with a spoon."  
  
"Oh, Rachel's still in the middle of Operation-Monica-No-Freak, she's still trying to avoid you for a while."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh, y'know, Rachel told me she talked to you about it. Her Monica's boyfriend policy? Apparently, she had lunch with Monica, and Monica was starting to get a little suspicious, so Rachel made up some story about having bunches of work to do and you gettin' on her nerves anyway. She said you'd know what was going on."  
  
"So -- wait. I'm not actually getting on Rachel's nerves?"  
  
"No, dude, she thought you'd know what she was doing. Actually, she told me she really missed hanging out with you... asked me how soon I thought Monica would forget about it and she could start having lunch with you again."  
  
"I thought she totally hated me!"  
  
"She did talk to you about her policy, right?"  
  
"Well, yeah..."  
  
"Man, you seriously need to look into getting some self-esteem."  
  
Chandler exhaled. "Wow. Wow. Wow, I feel so much better. Thanks, buddy!" He clapped Ross on the shoulder.  
  
"Oh, you're welcome. Y'know, only you, Chandler..."  
  
"Only me what?"  
  
"Could be a person that I could hear Rachel talk about this much without going, you know, all paranoid and 'Red Ross'. I mean, can you imagine? You cheating on my sister with my lobster? Dude, I'd have to... like... feed you your own torso."  
  
Ross laughed, and Chandler not-so-heartily joined in.  
  
"Ha-ha, heh, well, I mean, *that's* not anything you have to worry about. Rach's my lunch-buddy! Our relationship is strictly based on sustinence."  
  
"Yeah, uh, don't start freaking out, but Richard just walked up to Monica and Phoebe."  
  
"Dammit, dammit, why didn't I bring my glasses, what's going on?"  
  
"Looks like he's just saying hi. Oh yeah, okay, they exchanged two sentences, and now he's walking off. No big deal, dude, he's just being friendly."  
  
"Oh man... he can *do* that, just walk up, flip off a couple of suave little sentences, and walk away!" Chandler deepened his voice and held an imaginary cigar. "Why hello, Monica, Phoebe. Don't you both look stunning. I'll just be over in the corner, speaking fluent French and talking about Swedish philosophers. Enjoy the carrot sticks! Isn't my moustache luxurious today." Chandler dropped his Richard impression and looked at Ross despairingly. "I mean... can you imagine the hours-long nightmare of humiliation if I, like, tried to *wave* at one of my exes?"  
  
"I don't have to imagine it, dude, I've seen it." Ross brushed a crumb off his tie. "Calm down, man, I'll handle it."  
  
Ross caught Phoebe's eye. He tugged on his ear. She patted the top of her head. He crossed his eyes. She made a weird bird motion with her arms. Ross touched his left arm.  
  
Chandler watched in amazement. "How is telling Phoebe to steal third going to help me?"  
  
"I'm telling Phoebe to run interference."  
  
As Chandler watched, Phoebe excused herself and sashayed over to where Richard was standing.  
  
"Um, Ross -- do you think you could teach me that?"  
  
***  
  
"Care to dance, Dr. Burke?"  
  
"Ross told you to run interference, huh?"  
  
"I always knew you saw more than you were letting on!"  
  
Richard led Phoebe out onto the dance floor. Phoebe looked up at him appraisingly. "So -- how much did you actually hear?"  
  
"Well, hard to say since I can't know what I missed... but what I heard was pretty good, like Christmas good. Did she really... clutch my drain hair?"  
  
"I've never seen her so messed up."  
  
"Yeah, it wasn't really a good time for me, either. You know, I used to pour a bottle of Clorox in my sink so the apartment smelled like she'd slept over?"  
  
He cast a glance at Monica. "God, she's beautiful. If I didn't like Chandler so much... damn that little wiseguy for being so endearing."  
  
Phoebe looked innocently off into space. "Yeah, that's a popular opinion lately. I must say, Rachel definitely shares it..."  
  
Richard stopped mid-step. "Is that little bastard cheating on Monica? Because if he is, I'll..."  
  
"Calm down, calm down," Phoebe smiled. "Nothing like that, keep dancing."  
  
Richard looked down at her and grinned. "You know, you're really Machiavellian sometimes."  
  
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. But... I do know a few things."  
  
"Such as..."  
  
"Such as, Chandler's constantly trying to be more like you to make Monica happy, and he's always failing, 'cause y'know, he's not you. Monica's wondering if maybe she made a mistake, and I'm pretty sure Chandler is too."  
  
Phoebe chewed her lip. "When Monica was with you, she calmed down. She was happier. More centered. Less freak-y. Since she's been with Chandler, she's been more freak-y. I mean, you should have seen her screaming at Rachel the night of her engagement... and then she totally flipped out over this cookie thing later. It's like, all the outside things have to be perfect, absolutely and completely perfect, because she knows the inside thing isn't anywhere near perfect."  
  
"That's... interesting."  
  
"But if Monica just flat-out leaves Chandler... well, it's gonna destroy him. Because he, you know, the man is a self-esteem vacuum. If she leaves him, he'll take it as evidence that he's just like his parents and screws up every serious relationship. And he'll go into his little Chandler-hole, or worse, go punish himself by dating Janice again."  
  
Richard shuddered. "I really do like him. I wouldn't want that."  
  
"If the end of Monica and Chandler isn't mutual and, y'know, fairly un-evil, it's also going to really mess up the group. You missed the Ross and Rachel breakup, that was... that was nuclear."  
  
"Okay, you mentioned Rachel again. What was that hint you dropped earlier?"  
  
"Well, okay. A few months ago, Rachel and Chandler decided to have lunch together. And it went from, like, one lunch, to lunch everyday, to them calling each other at work all the time. Innocent, you know, but they just clicked. Then Monica started to get a little suspicious..."  
  
"Well, you can hardly blame her, considering how many of her boyfriends Rachel stole."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, we get it, you're on Monica's side. Anyway, Rachel didn't want to upset Monica, so she told her Chandler was annoying her anyway and she didn't want to have lunch with him anymore. Monica told Chandler, Chandler's all hurt, Rachel thinks Chandler knows what she's doing and has no idea he's all hurt. So Rachel's avoiding Chandler for fear of upsetting Monica, and Chandler's avoiding Rachel because he thinks she hates him."  
  
"Only you people could make *lunch* so complicated."  
  
"Hey, don't group me in with them! Anyway, the thing is... Chandler and Rachel, they're like, *pining* for each other. They've both been so depressed. It's crazy. Y'know I think Rachel actually talks to an invisible Chandler?"  
  
"So you think they..."  
  
"Well, I think they definitely could. I ran into them one afternoon when they were at the Thai place... and you could smell the heat in the air. Y'know, all restrained, buttoned-up, Victorian yummy heat."  
  
"But if Chandler leaves Ross' sister for Ross' lobster, Ross would like... feed him his torso."  
  
"Yeah, okay, you know what? People take me and my shellfish way too seriously. I did some research on the Internet, and y'know what? Lobsters don't mate for life. They don't. No, the girl lobsters mate with whoever is the dominant male. Y'know, they even time their mating seasons so they can all mate with the same guy. Lobsters aren't like Rachel and Ross, lobsters are like... womankind and Joey."  
  
She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Well, lobsters are like, really really mean to each other, so that is kind of like Rachel and Ross."  
  
"So... okay. Shellfish aside for the moment, don't you think Ross would still be a little upset?"  
  
"Not if he'd already found someone else."  
  
Richard and Phoebe danced for a moment in silence.  
  
"Richard... date me."  
  
"Um, Phoebe, don't you think this situation is complicated enough?"  
  
"No, no, not like that. Fake-date me. C'mon, it's perfect. You need an in, a legitimate reason to be hanging around Monica again. If you're dating me, you're non-threatening. And we can use our dates to work on our plan."  
  
"I don't know, Phoebe. This sounds like the plot to a *really* stupid movie."  
  
"Do you want Monica back or not?"  
  
"Of course I do..."  
  
"So we give it a shot. And if it doesn't work, well, we just break up, no harm done. And if Monica can see you dating me without getting insanely jealous, well, y'know, maybe I'll finally believe this whole   
'in love with Chandler' thing."  
  
"Phoebe? I know why I'm willing to risk doing this, but... what's in this for you?"  
  
"You mean, besides the ultimate happiness of my dear friends?"  
  
"Be serious."  
  
"Oh, Phoebe has her reasons. But Phoebe never reveals her reasons."  
  
"So, um, what's our first step?"  
  
"Well, you woo me, you know, and then we start on Phase One."  
  
"What's Phase One?"  
  
"Phase One is Ross."  
  
  
--------------  
  
To be continued... 


	5. PART ONE: Say Anything

Rachel plunked down on the orange couch and sighed. "You will not believe the day I..."  
  
She took a good look at Monica's face and stopped short. "Mon, what's wrong?"  
  
"You see those lilies on the counter?"  
  
"Oooh, yeah, they're gorgeous! Did Chandler send those to you?"  
  
"Yeah, right! No, they're for Phoebe."  
  
"Ooooh!"  
  
"From Richard."  
  
"Ohhhh."  
  
"They have a date on Thursday. Can you believe it?"  
  
"Well, um, Monica... didn't Phoebe ask your permission to date Richard?"  
  
"Well yeah! In front of Chandler! Like I could say no in front of Chandler!"  
  
"Well, Monica, I mean, you are sort of engaged."  
  
"Oh yeah? And how would you feel if you were engaged, and Phoebe started dating Ross?"  
  
Rachel burst into hysterical laughter.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Rachel."  
  
"Sorry, sorry, Mon. I understand, I do. Why don't you just tell Phoebe that you don't feel comfortable with her dating Richard?"  
  
"Because then Chandler will want to know why, you know, and it will be all awkward, and... I mean, the thing is, it'd be one thing if this just sort of spontaneously happened, but she had just given me this speech!"  
  
"Oh really? What speech?"  
  
"Y'know, about how maybe I should be with Richard, and maybe Chandler's not such a great match for me, and how I should think about why I was really with him, since I seem to be so hung up on Richard. Which was a really crappy speech, since I'd just gotten pretty much the same one from Kip, y'know, minus the Richard, heavier on the Chandler-sucks."  
  
"Kip, Kip of phased-out Kip? Said Chandler sucked? Did you beat him up? Tell me you beat him up. What did he say?"  
  
"Oh, you know, a bunch of stuff. Basically he implied that Chandler was my safety school and I'd lost the balls to apply anywhere else. And he started describing the kind of guy he always thought I'd end up with, which was basically Richard, like, completely."  
  
"Well, Monica, I mean, Richard's great and all, but Chandler's not some safety school. Kip's just an ass. Chandler's great! Y'know, he's hilarious, and sweet, and smart, and he's got that cute little goofball thing going on."  
  
"He is cute."  
  
"Yeah, he's cute! You know who Chandler is? He's *that guy*. He's the guy in the movie, you know, he's played by John Cusack, o-or Michael J. Fox, and of course every girl in the audience is in love with him, and his best friend the girl is in love with him, but the high school hottie isn't in love with him... because, you know, even though he's John Cusack and gorgeous, it's movie-land and we're supposed to pretend he's a dork. And he falls down, and screws up, but the whole time, you see his inner, romantic, trenchcoat wearing poetic soul! I mean, who do you want to be, the chick who sees the inner beauty, or the one who leaves him for the captain of the ski team?"  
  
"So what you're saying is that Richard is the captain of the ski team?"  
  
"Well, no, Richard's too nice. Richard's Cary Grant or something, he's in a whole different movie, it's not in color, forget about Richard."  
  
"But Rach -- why can't I be the girl in *that* movie? Y'know, what if I want to be Audrey Hepburn? Why can't I be in that movie instead of the stupid 80's ski movie? That movie was depressing."  
  
"Okay, you're missing my whole trenchcoat, poetic soul point here."  
  
"No, I'm not, Rach. I mean, what if Chandler and I are just meant to be in different movies, you know? And we've been miscast. I'm meant to be in the other movie with Cary Grant, and he's waiting around for some chick with big hair."  
  
"Okay, okay, Monica, you need The Test."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"The test. Okay, here's the deal. Chandler's dating... he's dating... okay, give me a girl that's not Janice."  
  
"Okay... you."  
  
"Yeah, not me, let's use Phoebe."  
  
"Why not you? Believe me, I'm imagining enough scenarios involving Phoebe right now."  
  
"Okay, whatever, me. Close your eyes."  
  
Monica dutifully closed them and leaned back against the couch.  
  
"So... I'm dating Chandler. We're living together, we're both living with Joey, we're right across the hall from you, you have to see us together all the time."  
  
"So the Barcolounger's gone?"  
  
"Monica, concentrate. Okay, so we're all hanging out, we're here, and Chandler and I are leaving. And we're going to the door, and he puts his hand on my waist. A-and so I reach up, and gently, gently, brush his hair back from his forehead. And then he touches my face, you know, caresses me on the cheek, and then he drags his thumb slo-o-owly over my bottom lip, and our eyes lock onto each other, and he kisses me... softly at first, you know, and then more passionately, cause he just can't help it, and I run my fingers through his hair, and he picks me up and slams me against the wall and molds his body to mine as we rip each other's clothes off, and..."  
  
"Wow, you're *good* at this!"  
  
"Huh?" Rachel blinked, reverie interrupted.  
  
"I mean, I was getting a little hot there, you're good at that! Who were you really thinking about?"  
  
"Um, yeah, um... Ewan MacGregor. But Mon, you weren't supposed to get hot, you were supposed to get jealous. Do I need to go on to the part where you come over to get the TV guide and hear the sounds of our passionate lovemaking?"  
  
"No, I'm sorry, you know, I just can't concentrate with those stupid flowers in my face. I close my eyes, I can still smell 'em. And Lilies! You know, why couldn't he have gotten her carnations, o-or daisies, or a big basket of dog crap?"  
  
Rachel gave Monica an appraising look, and put on her lightest, most casual tone. "Hey, Mon? You know if Chandler has any plans for... *lunch* tomorrow?"  
  
"Nah, don't think so, why?"  
  
"Well, uh, why don't you tell him to meet me at Nagoya around 11:30?"  
  
"Sure, okay."  
  
Rachel sipped her coffee, watching Monica's face, waiting.  
  
"Do you think Richard is trying to make me jealous? I mean, that could be what this is all about, right? Trying to make me jealous?"  
  
Rachel listened to Monica's rant, nodded and smiled in all the right places, and pretended that her mind wasn't on something else entirely.  
  
***  
  
"Dr. Burke? Your 4:00 is here."  
  
"Thanks, Sandy. Be there in just a second."  
  
He carried his clipboard into the examining room. "Well, Miss Davis, it's always nice to see you. So what brings you in today?"  
  
"It's my contacts. I think I'm going to have to switch to glasses. There's just so much dust and fumes at work, you know, I mean, people think I'm weeping over the extinction of the Apatosaurus."  
  
"Here, hold this over your eye and look at the chart." Richard paused. "Did you say... Apatosaurus?"  
  
"Oh yeah, that's right, I haven't talked to you since I switched departments! I like it so much better! I mean, I never knew how incredibly fascinating Dinosaurs were, you know, I'm learning everything I can about them, but there's so much to learn... and... oh, I'm sorry, I'm blabbing, I ought to be reading the chart, um, E, and then..."  
  
"Miss Davis? Wendy? Um... are you seeing anyone right now?"  
  
"Oh, Dr. Burke, I'm really flattered, but um..."  
  
"Oh, no, no. Not me. You read the chart, and we'll talk."  
  
***  
  
"I am *not* going on a double-date with you and Richard! That i-is creepy, and sick, and wrong."  
  
"Oh Ross, come on. The girl is perfect for you!"  
  
"This is not about the girl! This is about you and Richard, and how *incredibly* freaky that is!"  
  
"Look, Ross. Do you deny that Richard's a really great guy, who treated Monica amazingly well?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"I mean, the *only* reason she dumped him was because he didn't want to have kids. Other than that, the man was perfect. So he's just a perfect man, floatin' all about. Why can't I date him? I mean, Monica's engaged, what does she care? I mean, *Chandler* thinks I should go for it."  
  
"Of *course* Chandler thinks that! You could tell him you were flying Richard to Zarkon 5 and Chandler would think you should 'go for it'!"  
  
"Well, if you go... then you can be there to chaperone the freakiness. And did I mention that Richard says this Wendy girl is a dead ringer for Alyssa Milano?"  
  
"Huh. Well, I suppose it would be good to chaperone."  
  
"I didn't even tell you what her job is yet."  
  
"Huh-yeah? What's her job?"  
  
"She builds those animatronic dinosaurs at 'Touch the Past'."  
  
"She works... she builds... that's the coolest place *ever*! None of you would ever go with me!"  
  
Phoebe's voice dropped to a sultry register. "Oh yeah, she works there. She's always working to perfect the dinosaurs, y'know. Make 'em really... *accurate*. And she's learning as much as she can about them. She just looooves to talk about dinosaurs, and she apparently told Richard how she was sooo excited to meet you and get your..." Phoebe paused for just a moment, licked her lips lightly, then whispered: "Expert opinion."  
  
"Y'okay, I'll go, but I'm only doing this for you!"  
  
***  
  
Phoebe and Richard caught each other's eyes and had to resist the urge not to giggle. Not that Ross and Wendy would have noticed if they'd rolled on the floor laughing, or for that matter, tap-danced naked on top of the table.  
  
"And I'm about to start researching Sauropods, that's my next project."  
  
"Oooh -- you know what you should do? Attach a group of Anurognathus."  
  
"A what? My god, I can't believe I didn't bring my notebook. Dr. Geller, you're... fascinating."  
  
"Oh please, just Ross. Anurognathus are a type of pterosaur... they live almost their entire lives on Sauropod backs."  
  
Ross drew a finger lightly over his wine glass. "You know... if you wanted... I used to work at the museum, I still have some friends over there. We could go on kind of a behind-the-scenes tour, y'know, see how they assemble the fossils."  
  
"Are you serious? That would be incredible! That would help me so much. I'm really trying to learn as much as I can. I ordered that entire series on DVD, y'know, 'Walking With Dinosaurs'? It just came from Amazon this afternoon, I haven't had a chance to rip into it yet."  
  
"Oh my god, you have 'Walking With Dinosaurs' on DVD? I missed, like, four episodes!"  
  
"Do you want to come watch it with me? I could pop popcorn, we could have a dino-marathon."  
  
"That would rock!"  
  
"Tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, just let me get the check..."  
  
"Oh no, no, Ross," Richard grinned. "Lemme get this one. You guys go have your marathon, and say hi to the, er, Anoo..."  
  
"Anurognathus."  
  
"Yeah, say hi to him for me. And all his little birdy friends."  
  
"Thanks, Richard! We should do this again sometime, it was fun. Wendy, I'll get our coats, okay?"  
  
As Ross walked off, Wendy grabbed Richard by both hands.  
  
"Dr. Burke, thank you, thank you, thank you... I mean, I thought it'd be so cool to talk to a paleontologist, but I never dreamed he'd be so gorgeous! I am going to refer everyone I know to you, whether they have bad vision or not!"  
  
Richard laughed and squeezed Wendy's hands. "You go have fun, and enjoy your new glasses."  
  
"I'm gonna enjoy steaming them up!" She watched Ross' retreating rear. "Hommina."  
  
Wendy practically sprinted to join Ross's side, and Phoebe and Richard looked at each other with sly grins.  
  
"I propose a toast," Richard said. "To Phase One."  
  
"Well, Ross will probably screw this up, but if he doesn't... To Phase One!"  
  
They clinked glasses and downed their wine.  
  
  
--------------  
  
To be continued...  
  
CREDITS: Dinosaur information taken from the BBC website.  
http://www.bbc.co.uk/dinosaurs 


	6. PART ONE: Love Will Tear Us Apart

"So, how's the hunt for the new assistant going?" Richard asked, taking a sip of his wine.  
  
Rachel brushed a piece of hair back. "Ah, it's good... I'm done, actually. I went with this lady named Hilda, she's amazing. I don't have to remember *anything* anymore."  
  
"You should have seen the scrumptious thing she didn't hire," Phoebe giggled, reaching for a breadstick.  
  
Richard wiggled his eyebrows. "Scrumptious, huh?"  
  
"When he walked in, I thought he was looking for the model area," Rachel laughed. "I ended up walking him over there. I think they're using him for the Spring Catalog."  
  
"I can't believe you didn't hire him," Phoebe gushed. "I mean, talk about spicing up your workday."  
  
"Oh c'mon... his relevant experience was housepainting. It'd be different if he were really interested in a career in fashion, but he just wanted a job. He'll get a lot more money modeling than he would typing my memos."  
  
"But you've got his resume, right? So you've got his phone number?"  
  
"Sheesh, Pheebs. I mean, he's pretty, but he's..." she looked down at her shrimp and mumbled, "Not my type, I guess."  
  
"Well, whatever, Rachel, but he can 'Tag' me anytime," Phoebe laughed. At Richard's look, she kissed his cheek. "Just kidding... lo-ver."  
  
Monica groaned loudly.  
  
"Gee... whatever's the matter, honey?" Chandler asked, sarcasm dripping.  
  
"Ah... this cream sauce," Monica lied weakly. "It's just... hello, oregano's a seasoning, not a main ingredient."  
  
Awkward silence fell around the table, as everyone pretended to be extremely interested in their food.  
  
Monica poked her pasta miserably, watching everyone else studiously looking elsewhere. Only Wendy was making eye contact, looking around the table from poker face to poker face in confusion. Wendy leaned back and whispered something in Ross' ear; when he returned the favor, she shot the briefest of glances at Monica before joining the other seven in looking preoccupied with her plate.  
  
Great. Now Wendy thought she was psycho. And from the looks Chandler was shooting her, it seemed like that opinion was going around.  
  
Was she being that blatantly obvious? She'd tried so hard to cover up how this Richard and Phoebe thing was killing her... she'd even suggested the eight of them go out to dinner.  
  
Losing Richard years ago had been bad enough, but this... this was excruciating. Phoebe's hand on his arm, the little private laughter, the looks that shot between them... every one was like a punch in the stomach.  
  
And god, poor Chandler. He definitely knew something was up, and she didn't know what to do.   
  
She loved Chandler, she did. But now, sitting at the table with him and Richard, what she felt for Chandler was like... a wine cooler. And Richard was like straight scotch in a tall glass. It had been so long since she'd really experienced being drunk, she'd managed to convince herself she was drunk when in fact she was barely tipsy.  
  
What she and Chandler had was warm, and familiar, and homey. But sitting in between him and Richard, Chandler paled and receded.  
  
Richard's glances burned. Just looking at his face made a slow flush creep up her neck... the entire dinner had been one torturous, amazing, wonderful sensation after another. The all-over body sparkles when their hands had accidentally touched over the breadsticks. The aching warmth, the need, spreading over her body when their knees touched under the table. It was like every molecule in his body was calling out to hers, and it took effort not to gulp the air that carried the scent of his cologne and the deeper, never-forgotten smell of him.  
  
She had forgotten. She had forgotten the fog of heat, the brain-obliterating need to be near someone. She was attracted to Chandler, sure... when he touched her, her body responded, the sex was very, very good. But with Chandler, sex was something they did.  
  
With Richard... with Richard, sex had been almost an afterthought, not so much an activity as a natural consequence of desperately trying to get as close to him as humanly possible.  
  
Did he have that with Phoebe? Was this total meltdown she was feeling, the humid, sticky haze that seemed to hang between her and Richard, totally one-sided, a product of her imagination?  
  
She tentatively moved her right leg until it pressed lightly against Richard's. He sucked in air involuntarily, and his fork nearly fell out of his hand.  
  
Interesting.  
  
Now her left leg, sliding over and pressing gently into Chandler's thigh. He turned to her and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Sorry, Mon, was I crowding you?"  
  
He scooted his chair a little closer to Joey and turned his attention back to his plate.  
  
Monica wrung her napkin in both hands. She knew she was in a bad situation, poised on the edge of a terrible mistake.  
  
The question was... which decision was the mistake?   
  
***  
  
Chandler squirmed through the window on the balcony and sat cross-legged against the brick. He could hear the sounds of the traffic, his neighbors, the music inside, and forced his mind to zoom to the individuals behind the noise. The woman in the window, washing dishes... what was she thinking about? That child that was screaming... why?  
  
But even one of his favorite mind-games couldn't distract him for long. He shoved a loose brick aside, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from behind it, and lit one.  
  
Good god. So stale. He coughed a little and examined the cylinder in his hand. If things kept being this insane, he was going to run through his depressed-and-thinking cigarettes a hell of a lot faster than two packs a year.  
  
Of course, Monica would kill him if she caught him smoking, but she was covering dinner shift this week. Thank god -- if he'd had to spend another night at Central Perk watching her watching Richard, he'd swallow his own tongue.  
  
And this recent thing... god. What planet did Monica live on? Did she know him at all? As if her Richard mentionitis wasn't hurtful enough, she had their engagement pictures taken with Joey?   
  
Because Chandler just wasn't good-looking enough to be in *Monica's* engagement photo.  
  
Monica's perfect engagement photo, of her perfect engagement, of her perfect life... that he didn't seem to be a participant in anymore.  
  
This month had been almost complete hell. If it hadn't been for Rachel, he'd have gone insane. The guys were on other planets... Ross was giddy, spending every waking minute with Wendy, and on the rare moments Chandler saw him detached, Ross was so estatic Chandler hated to bring him down.  
  
And Joey... well, something was wrong with him, but he wouldn't talk to Chandler about it. Chandler had tried opening up about him and Monica, both to get it out and to prompt a confidence from Joey... but not only had Joey remained tight-lipped, he'd barely paid attention.  
  
Phoebe was up Richard's butt, and Monica... Monica was nuts.  
  
When she wasn't ignoring him, she was treating him like a puppy who piddled on the carpet at the dog show. It was worse than the time she'd felt the need to "beat" Phoebe and Gary at being the hottest... at least then he'd gotten sex.  
  
Chandler really thought he'd experienced the most inadequate he could feel, but this past month had been a revelation of new lows. All the things about him Monica used to find at least endearing... his fumbled jokes, his clumsy mistakes, his knack of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time... all earned him the steeliest of glares. And that was just in public. In private, she let her opinions out.  
  
"Grow up, Chandler. Be serious, Chandler," he said aloud in a sing-song voice.  
  
He ground his cigarette into the concrete. "Who the hell does she think I am?"  
  
Then, quieter: "Who the hell does she want me to be?"  
  
He thought he knew the answer to that one.  
  
He knew Monica was competitive... it was something about her he'd accepted a long time ago. But this... this was ridiculous. Everything Richard and Phoebe did, they had to do, but they had to do it better. It was like he was a Ken doll that she dragged around, screeching "Look how happy I am without you, Richard!"  
  
If a Ken doll could talk, and drop things, and ruin it for her.  
  
He tried to understand, he really did. He remembered running into Janice one night, when she was out to dinner with Gary. He'd been walking with Joey, scarfing Doritos, in need of a shower, wearing his last-day-before-I-have-to-do-laundry clothes... and had immediately wished that he'd looked amazing and had been discussing astrophysics while Cindy Crawford hung on his every word.   
  
But he also remembered running into Kathy last year, when he'd been with Monica... and how proud he'd been to be with Monica, how he hadn't felt that need to be in a tux with a supermodel... because he was with Monica.  
  
Chandler had to face facts: he was only good enough for Monica... when Richard wasn't looking.  
  
So much for Rachel's theory that having Richard around all the time was actually a good thing. Rachel had been convinced that Monica had put Richard on a pedestal when they broke up, and that having Richard around all the time would bring her back to reality and make her appreciate Chandler more.  
  
Yeah, not so much.  
  
Chandler considered Rachel and had to let out a little rueful laugh. She'd changed so much since she moved in with Joey... it was like a whole other side of her had been unlocked.   
  
He supposed it could have something to do with being able to throw spaghetti on the floor, but in his heart, he knew that wasn't it.  
  
Joey was so sweet, so easy-going, so... unconditionally adoring. Rachel had gone from living with Monica, where she could do almost no right, to Joey's, where she could do no wrong.   
  
And slowly but surely, a lot of what he'd always thought he knew about Rachel was rubbing off of her, revealing unexpected things underneath... and he found himself wondering how much of what he'd always assumed was ever really Rachel at all.  
  
She'd gone from pleasing her parents to pleasing Barry and their friends, to pleasing Monica...  
  
And while Rachel was blossoming... what the hell was happening to him?  
  
He heard a car door bang below and familiar voices drifted up to him. He poked his head out over the railing.  
  
Richard and Phoebe, coming home from their date. Chandler watched as Richard opened the cab door for her, pulling her up gracefully by one hand, effortlessly shutting the door with the other before bringing Phoebe's hand up to his lips for a chaste kiss. If Chandler had tried to do that for Monica, he would have tripped over something, or accidentally shut her dress in the door...  
  
The wind changed, and now he could hear their voices clearly.  
  
"You are so smooth," Phoebe was giggling. "How'd you get to be so smooth?"  
  
Richard laughed, that full, easy laugh Chandler could never pull off. "You want the truth? I used to watch old movies and practice in the mirror."  
  
"You didn't."  
  
"No, I seriously did. My best friend Felicity, she was a huge movie buff. Sometimes, we'd practice some of that stuff together, you know. I'd be Cary Grant, she'd be Katharine Hepburn... I'd be Jimmy Stewart, she'd be Grace Kelly. I can still do the two cigarette trick from 'Now, Voyager'."  
  
Another shift in the wind, and their voices were gone. Chandler settled back against the wall, smoking cigarette after cigarette, listening to the muffled sounds of the cd he'd put on before coming out here.  
  
"Creep" faded into "Boys Don't Cry", followed by "Love Will Tear Us Apart". Gee, what could have been on his mind when he burned this?  
  
When Ian Curtis was done bumming him out, Tori Amos took over.  
  
"Maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen..."  
  
Chandler sat upright, eyes wide.  
  
He had an idea, and he knew who could help him.  
  
  
------------------  
  
To be continued... 


	7. PART ONE: Damage Control

"Wow, Rachel... you're kinda dressed up for a Tuesday afternoon, aren't you?"  
  
Rachel capped her eyeliner and turned toward Hilda, who was leaning against a sink with a smile on her face.  
  
"Ah, it's a favor for a friend. Tonight's his first suave lesson."  
  
"Uh, okay, what?"  
  
"It's this guy I've been friends with for years. His fiancee's super-smooth ex-boyfriend has been on the scene, and he's feeling kinda dorky by comparison. So we're going out tonight, and I'm gonna teach him stuff."  
  
"Stuff?"  
  
"Well, his girlfriend told me that she wants to feel like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, you know... so I'm teaching him to be Cary Grant."  
  
"You think this guy can pull that off?"  
  
"Oh, I think he can." Rachel turned back to the mirror, poking at an eyebrow.  
  
Hilda laughed. "Okay, there was a huge unspoken 'but' in that sentence, why don't you spill."  
  
"Eh. I don't know. I guess I wish she'd just appreciate him the way he is. It makes me kinda sad that he feels the need to do this."  
  
"Well... would you feel sad for him if he took, I don't know, cooking classes to impress her? Or dancing classes, or worked out? It's kinda the same thing, it's self-improvement. You shouldn't feel bad."  
  
"It's not that, it's..." Rachel studied herself in the mirror for a moment. "Eh, never mind. I'm sure you're right."  
  
***  
  
Chandler fiddled nervously with his bouquet, feeling very stupid all of a sudden. This had seemed like such a great idea at first. Now, waiting outside the restaurant, he was aware of the superlative dorkiness of his situation. Or hell, of himself.  
  
He should call Rachel's cell, call it off, go home with a scrap of dignity left. Or a shred. Was a shred smaller than a scrap?  
  
"Excuse me... are you Chandler Bing?"  
  
He whirled, blushing, then stopped cold.  
  
Rachel looked amazing. No, no, beyond amazing... she'd gone off into a land where the adjectives could not follow. A slow smile spread over her face.  
  
Oh god, how long had he been staring? Must make words! Oh god, not just words... suave words! That was the point! Argh, argh, think of movies, think of Richard...  
  
"I'm Chandler Bing," he finally sputtered.  
  
Rachel burst into a grin. "Okay... totally endearing as that was, you gotta work on your response time. Try it again, only this time, say it like this... 'I'm Chandler Bing'. Can you do that? I'll go around the corner again."  
  
"You know what? Monica knows my name. So we can skip that part, right? Just come up to me like Monica would."  
  
"Are you seriously suggesting that you'd be meeting Monica somewhere... and you'd be earlier than her?"  
  
"Good point! Okay, I'll go around the corner, you stand there and look annoyed."  
  
He jogged around the corner of the restaurant and back. Rachel stood next to the door, looking impatiently at the place where her watch would be.  
  
"Hey, honey!"  
  
"You're late. Again." Rachel glared, rather convincingly.  
  
"Sorry, sweetie... my god, you look gorgeous."  
  
"Can we please eat? I'm starving."  
  
Chandler rocked back on his heels. "This isn't going well."  
  
"Yeah, it's not, is it?"  
  
"So I guess the first thing we've learned is that I need to beat her everywhere. So I'll stand here, you go over there, and we'll do it over."  
  
He clutched his bouquet, and Rachel reappeared.  
  
"Hey, sweetie! You look gorgeous."  
  
"What are you doing here so early? Did you blow off work again?"  
  
Chandler sighed and dropped his arms. "What was that?"  
  
"I was being in character!"  
  
"You want to skip the greeting part?"  
  
"Yeah, okay, let's go inside."  
  
Chandler pulled the door open for her and stood beside it with a flourish, waiting. At Rachel's look, he frowned.  
  
"I screwed up already, didn't I."  
  
"Well, you kinda missed the door dance."  
  
"Door dance?"  
  
"Oh yeah. It's very important."  
  
"How I open the door is important? Sweet jesus, I'm a dead man."  
  
"No, no, you're learning, this is good. C'mere."  
  
She took his hand and pulled him into position. "Stand beside and slightly behind me... no, no, my right side. Okay, put your left hand on the left side of my back, just above my waist. You're not groping, you're helping, see. And you're just behind me, so I can just barely feel your body heat. Subtle body heat is very good."  
  
"Okay, now what?"  
  
"Now you reach with your right hand, past me, to grab the door handle. See, this is good, because it presses your body into mine. It's like a spooning preview, you know? But fleeting... enticing. So you grab the door handle, pull it open, and now you use the hand on my waist to gently steer me inside."  
  
"I am never going to remember all that. Why does this matter, again?"  
  
"Because you've established so many things in a three-second move! One, you've opened the door for her, without being ostentatious about it. Two, you've given her the little spooning-preview, with the body heat. Three, you've got the hand. It's a little forceful, but respectful. You're manly, you know, but sensitive. Hopefully, she's a little dazed with hormones from the spooning preview, so the little push inside forces her jellied knees to start moving. It's dizzy, it's disorienting... but you're there. So you're saying 'Hey babe, being with me is going to make your head all spinny, but it's okay, 'cause I'll be there to help you.'"  
  
"We're going to be here a long time, aren't we?"  
  
"Yeah, we should have brought snacks. Okay, back out, and it's door dance again."  
  
Chandler sidled up to Rachel and placed his hand on her back, letting his fingers slide down the silky fabric of her dress and settle in the spot she'd indicated, feeling the warmth of her beneath. He reached for the door handle, stifling a gasp at the electric shock when his body pressed fully against Rachel's. He inhaled sharply, and his nose filled with the smell of her shampoo and the soft scent of her skin. Door open, he gently steered her inside the restaurant.  
  
Rachel bit her lip, thankful that Chandler was behind her and couldn't see her face. His hand on her waist, his breath on the back of her neck, the heady rush of his cologne... when was she going to get over this stupid crush? It was bad enough to feel this way about a guy who was engaged, a guy who was only touching her in an attempt to please his fiancee... but that fiancee was her best friend. God, no wonder Monica was so paranoid about her... she had a right to be. Worst of all, even as she moved through the door, chastizing herself, all she really wanted to do was lean back into Chandler, turn around, run her fingers through... stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it...  
  
"Okay, we're through the door, now what?" Chandler asked, slightly out of breath.  
  
"Um, then I have to pee, but that's not usual, so we'll pretend this isn't happening. Be right back."  
  
Rachel fled into the cold safety of the ladies' room.  
  
***  
  
"So..." Chandler said, pouring them both a little more wine, "How'm I doing so far?"  
  
"Really good. No, seriously, you are. That 'It's just so hard to appreciate eating out when I live with the best chef in the city' comment was absolutely inspired."  
  
"Thanks. So now what?"  
  
"Now, we finish dessert. After dessert, we're gonna dance. And Chandler... don't think I didn't notice that you *didn't* comment on your dessert's resemblance to a giant penis."  
  
"Oh, thank god, that was killing me. So now we..."  
  
"Just talk for a while."  
  
"Ah, okay." He paused. "Actually, there is something I've been wondering... and you can hit me if you feel like it... but... are you okay with this whole Ross and Wendy thing?"  
  
"Ohh. Y'know, it's weird, but I am, I really am. I mean, it hurts a little... I guess I just sort of think of Ross as *mine*, you know? And who ever wants to see their ex happy with someone else?"  
  
Chandler bit back a comment as Rachel continued.  
  
"But... Ross and I are great friends. Not so great as boyfriend and girlfriend. I mean, it seems like it'd be common sense that two people who can get along as friends ought to be able to get along as boyfriend and girlfriend, y'know? But I think I'm finally realizing that just isn't true."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Well... it just doesn't work out that way. I mean, okay, look at Ross and Wendy. They go to the dinosaur thing, they go to foreign films, they stay home and watch the Discovery Channel... and they're both having a blast... like optimum fun for both of them. If Ross and I did any of those things, I'd be bored and miserable... if I even agreed to do them, you know? Ross and I were always hunting down common ground, things we could both stand to do... but those things we ended up doing were never what either of us *really* wanted to do. Either we did a 'Ross' thing, and he was happy, or we did a 'Rachel' thing, and I was happy, or we did a 'Ross-and-Rachel' thing, and we were both half happy. Y'know, any way you slice it, that's half as many happy people as when Ross and Wendy go out."  
  
Rachel sighed. "And if we'd gotten married... we would have had to compromise on *everything*. From how we raised the kids to where we lived, what we named them, everything. Neither one of us would ever have gotten to have things the way we really wanted. And the love is supposed to balance that out, you know, but for us it just didn't."  
  
She looked up and saw Chandler staring off into space. "Oh god -- I'm boring you to death, aren't I? I'm so sorry, let's talk about something else, okay?"  
  
Chandler turned back slowly and met her eyes. "You weren't boring me, Rach. To be honest, you were depressing me."  
  
"All that stuff I said... I was talking about me and Ross. You and Monica are a totally different situation."  
  
"Are we? Really?"  
  
"Well... yeah..."  
  
"I don't know. I've just been thinking a lot. I mean... I could kind of understand me and Monica if we'd been more like..."  
  
He paused, searching for any other metaphor, finally having to settle for the one in front of him.  
  
"Well... more like me and you. Y'know, friend-wise. You've always been unattainable, you know? Even if I *had* developed feelings for you, you always had a big 'Property of Ross' stamped on your head. There was never a chance for anything to happen. We weren't that close, we never really spent time alone... I could understand it if something developed between *us* years after we met."  
  
Rachel noticed she was holding her breath and carefully let it out as Chandler continued. "But Monica and I weren't like that. We've been friends for years, close for years. I'd kissed her before, held her before, slept in the same bed with her before... it just seems like if there was going to be some magical 'wow, I've never looked at you like this' thingey happen, it would have happened way before London. Instead, she was pretty much flat-out telling me that I wasn't good enough for her. I wasn't even good enough to be her backup, and god knows I offered enough times."  
  
He stabbed his dessert with his fork. "Then, you know, we're in London, and she's drunk and depressed, and she comes to me. You know what she said, when we started kissing?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"'This isn't weird.' And she was all surprised about it. I mean, I'm lucky she was even looking for me when she came into the room."  
  
Rachel choked on her wine, and hurriedly raised her napkin to her face. Chandler eyed her suspiciously. "Rachel... you have something to tell Chandler."  
  
"No, noo, I don't, there was um, a bug in my wine."  
  
"Tell Chandler."  
  
"About the bug? Okay, it was small, and black, and icky..."  
  
"Rachel!"  
  
"No, Chandler, I'm sorry. Because it's not a big deal, and you're gonna take it really personally, and flip out, and I'm not doing it."  
  
"I swear, I will not flip out."  
  
"Or take it personally?"  
  
"Y'know, I won't even take it. Tell me."  
  
"Okay, fine. She was looking for Joey, but he wasn't there... you were."  
  
"SHE WAS..." Chandler began in a squeaky high-pitched voice before catching himself. He deepened his voice past his own and slung a elbow casually on the table. "Looking for Joey, was she? How amusing, and not at all something to flip out about."  
  
"But Chandler, I mean, you have to see how little that matters now."  
  
"Of course!" he replied in the same fake voice. "I mean, my entire acceptance of the night in London did hinge on her looking for me and not for Joey, but that's not a problem. If you'll excuse me, I'll just be in the restroom, not flipping out."  
  
Rachel sighed as Chandler strode to the bathroom. She took a sip of her remaining wine and tried to ignore the unmistakeable sounds of someone beating their head against a bathroom stall.  
  
***  
  
Rachel signaled for the check, and resumed staring at her fingertips. Why, why, why had she said anything, why?   
  
Chandler returned and dropped heavily into the seat across from her, his forehead fading back to pink from angry red. When the waiter brought their check, they both reached for it. Chandler was quicker, jamming his credit card into the slot and handing it back with a flourish.  
  
"Chandler, you should at least let me..."  
  
"Oh no, no-no-no. You've taught me the door dance and *so much more*!"  
  
"Chandler, I never should have said anything, I'm sorry."  
  
He sputtered. "Why are *you* apologizing? You're the only one of my friends who told me the truth."  
  
Rachel looked down at her napkin miserably, and Chandler continued. "For that matter... you've been so, so great to me. Agreeing to do this tonight... listening to me whine... trying to make me feel better about Richard. I just... you know, I am kicking myself. I've known you for so long, and I never knew how great you were. I wish I'd been friends... closer friends... with you a lot longer."  
  
The waiter returned, and Chandler signed the receipt, sliding the card back into his wallet and shutting it with a snap.   
  
"So. Let's dance."  
  
"You still want to dance?"  
  
"Hell, yeah. If I'm not even my fiancee's choice of one-night-stands, I need your help more than ever."  
  
***  
  
She should not have agreed to this. The thing at the door had been bad enough... a second of fleeting contact. Here, in the middle of the floor, wrapped in his arms, head on his chest... and wine-buzzed on top of it all.  
  
Why did he have to smell so good? She could feel his heart beating through the soft fabric of his shirt, and his hands changing position on her back felt like they were painting throbbing colors across her skin.  
  
Chandler raised his hand and ran it down her hair, and Rachel couldn't help sighing. Even her own breath across her lips was arousing, as hungry for touch as they were. Involuntarily, she raised her fingers to them and ran two fingertips across her aching lower lip.  
  
The worst was the knowledge that she was completely alone in this feeling. Chandler was thinking about nothing but Monica, how to make Monica love him. He was probably pretending she *was* Monica.  
  
And dammit -- Monica did not deserve him. Not the way she'd been acting lately, anyway. For god's sake -- *shrubbery* could tell she was infatuated with Richard.   
  
Didn't matter. Didn't matter. Monica was her best friend. And even if Monica was making goo-goo eyes at Richard... what she herself was doing was far worse. Monica wasn't pretending to help Richard and melting to butter in his arms.  
  
Melting to butter in the arms of someone who wasn't the slightest bit attracted to her, someone for whom she was a... test dummy.  
  
She shifted her weight, dropping her hands down to Chandler's waist with a sigh.  
  
Their hips aligned, and Chandler's eyes flew open. He took a step back, fake-yawned loudly, and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"You know what, Rach? I'm, uh. I'm getting kinda tired, you know? I think I've got this slow-dancing thing down. And uh, wow, huh, I have to pee. That's not suave, pretend I didn't say that. Um, anyway, I'll... I'll be peeing. Um, not here. In there. Or something suave instead. Okay."  
  
Chandler sprinted to the bathroom, leaving Rachel standing awkwardly in the center of the dance floor.  
  
Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her face not to turn tomato red. She looked around, where the other dancers were staring at her with frank curiousity.  
  
"When he's gotta go, he's gotta go," she said weakly, and power-walked to the coat check.  
  
Oh god. Oh god! He knew. He had to. She had totally blown it, crossed the line, snuggling up to him like that. No wonder he had jumped back like she'd bit him. Oh god, now he was going to be all weird and suspicious of her, and not want to hang around her, and... oh god.  
  
Damage control. Damage control. She had to convince him she didn't like him that way, convince him it had been a mistake.  
  
***  
  
Chandler stood in the bathroom stall, desperately thinking about baseball, worm farming, Janet Reno, anything.   
  
"Down, boy, down," he whispered, glaring angrily at the offending body part, which was still gazing stubbornly at the ceiling.  
  
Think about Friday's WENUS. Think about Barney Fife. Think about the shopping channel. Do not think about Rachel's hair sliding across his neck, the soft...  
  
Rodney Dangerfield! Polar bears! Velveeta! Telemarketers!  
  
***  
  
They walked back to their apartment building in complete silence, maintaining at least three feet of space between them at all times and near-aerobic speed.  
  
Chandler couldn't even look at her... he was too busy thinking of imaginative ways to either kill himself, or turn back time.   
  
"So... this is my door," Rachel said awkwardly.  
  
"Yeah, funny, cause, um, this is mine."  
  
"Well, I'll see ya."  
  
"Yeah, okay. And, um, thanks for the lesson."  
  
"Yeah! You're welcome! Um, seeya later."  
  
"Later..."  
  
They both let themselves into their apartments, slammed the doors, and sunk down against them.  
  
  
--------------  
  
To be continued... 


	8. PART ONE: Induced Labor

"So... something's sucking," Phoebe announced, tucking her feet underneath her on Richard's couch.  
  
"Ross and Wendy?" Richard asked, taking the seat across from her.  
  
"No, Ross and Wendy couldn't be twirlier. It's like they're two kids makin' out behind the cafeteria at computer camp, it's geektacular."  
  
She sighed. "It's Rachel and Chandler. And the thing is, with everyone all worked up... it's not like I'm out of the loop, y'know, there is no loop. My sources have dried up. Nobody's telling me anything, not even Joey."  
  
"And Monica?"  
  
"Oh, are you kidding? She only reason she hasn't scratched my eyes out yet is because she's too busy wiping off her drool over you."   
  
Richard took a sip of his drink and sighed heavily. "Pheebs... maybe we should call this off. Everyone's unhappy but Ross and Wendy. Can't we just be glad we did a good thing for them and stop torturing everyone?"  
  
"Don't you wuss out on me now, Burke."  
  
"I'm not wussing out, Pheebs... but going around spreading misery isn't exactly a hobby I planned to take up in my golden years, you know?"   
  
"Richard... this is a process, okay? It's like... it's like giving birth. Do you know what would happen to the species if women said 'Y'know what? This hurts, and I'm just not that interested in how this turns out, I'm stopping right here.'"  
  
"I think it's a little dif..."  
  
"But it's not. Yeah, people are miserable. The lady's miserable 'cause she needs to get the baby out. Monica's miserable because she's in love with you, Rachel and Chandler are miserable because they're in love with each other. All these people need is to complete the process, and, y'know? Misery over."  
  
"Pheebs... I just don't think it's that simple. I mean, getting Ross and Wendy together, we lucked out finding Wendy, that was easy. It didn't hurt anyone, all they had to do was go out and like each other."  
  
Richard stood up and put his hands in his pockets. "But look at Phase II. We've been in it for what... three months now? I've had a longer fake-relationship with you than most of my real girlfriends. You know what the problem with your plan is?"  
  
"Don't blame the plan!"  
  
"I am blaming the plan, Phoebe, because this part of it... well, it sucks. There's no progress until someone betrays someone, and the reason this is taking so damn long is because everyone is trying to do the right thing."  
  
"Yeah. I was not expecting that."  
  
"Part of that whole 'loving Monica' thing is wanting her to be happy, Phoebe. It's why I originally stepped back from her and Chandler. Now she's miserable, and it's my fault, and I can't stand that."  
  
"Okay, so... we get out the forceps, get things moving in the right direction."  
  
"Ah, more pain for everyone involved? Phoebe, have you been listening to me at all?"  
  
"Okay, Richard. Let's break up."  
  
"Oh, thank god, okay."  
  
"No-no. Not here. I have another stage planned."  
  
"Oh no, Phoebe, I'm a horrible, horrible actor, please don't make me do this."  
  
"You won't have to act. Trust me. C'mon, just trust me for like, another hour."  
  
"Fine. Fine. What do I say?"  
  
"Wait until we get there, and follow my lead. Can I use your phone?"  
  
"Sure... for what?"  
  
"Ahh... just checking out the seating arrangements for our show."  
  
***  
  
"Um... The Green Mile?" Rachel asked, running her finger over their DVD collection.  
  
Joey's eyes barely flicked up from his comic. "Too depressing."  
  
"Wonder Boys?"  
  
"Too depressing."  
  
"Okay... The Sixth Sense?"  
  
"Too depressing."  
  
Rachel sighed. "Would you like to explain to me what's depressing about The Sixth Sense?"  
  
"Are you kidding? The guy's dead, his wife's left alone, that poor little kid's gonna see dead people forever!"  
  
"Okay, that is depressing, I guess. And I suppose 'Angela's Ashes' is out."  
  
"Why do we even own that?"  
  
"Because you thought it was the sequel to 'Weekend at Bernie's'."  
  
"Ohh, yeah..."  
  
"When are Phoebe and Richard getting here?"  
  
From out in the hallway, they heard Phoebe's voice, loud and angry.  
  
"I'm guessin' now," Joey sighed.  
  
***  
  
"No, Monica's not going to be there," Phoebe said loudly. "And you know, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention her name every five freaking seconds!"  
  
"Sorry, Phoebe."  
  
"Louder," Phoebe hissed.  
  
"Sorry, Phoebe!"  
  
"You know, I am so sick of this! All you can talk about is Monica, Monica, Monica! I do have feelings, you know!"  
  
***  
  
Monica and Chandler stopped washing dishes and stared at each other. Chandler slapped his dishtowel over his shoulder, leaned against the cabinet, and crossed his arms. Monica stood awkwardly, clutching a tumbler.  
  
"Come on, Phoebe, cut me some slack," Richard's voice intruded.  
  
"We... we shouldn't be listening to this," Monica said.  
  
"I don't think the apartment's large enough for us not to," Chandler smirked. "And anyway, the topic *intrigues* me."  
  
"We can't just eavesdrop."  
  
"Yeah, 'cause we weren't glued the door for every fight Ross and Rachel ever had."  
  
"That was different! This is..."  
  
***  
  
"You're obviously still in love with Monica," Phoebe shouted. "I see you staring at her all the time. How stupid do you think I am? Did you start dating me just to spend more time with Monica?"  
  
"No, Phoebe, I like you a lot..."  
  
"Oh, you like me a lot. That's great. I date you for months, and you like me a lot. But her, you loooooooove, right? You just loooooooove her so much. That's why you wouldn't sleep with me, isn't it??"  
  
From behind two doors, four heads stared at each other in shock.  
  
Phoebe continued screeching. "That's it! That's why! You wouldn't sleep with me, because you're still hoping to get back together with Monica! And you knew that if you messed around with me, it would make things all weird for you later! God, everything's about Monica with you, isn't it?"  
  
"Phoebe, I..."  
  
"You know what? If you love Monica so freaking much, why don't you just get back together with her!"  
  
"Did you forget she's engaged to Chandler, the guy I like a hell of a lot and don't want to hurt?"  
  
"Oooh, you're soooo nice. You think about Chandler's feelings, you think about Monica's feelings, did you ever think about... gee, I don't know... Phoebe, your girlfriend's, feelings?"  
  
"Okay, okay, you win. I love Monica."  
  
"It's nice to hear you admit it!"  
  
"I never denied it! She's the love of my life, Phoebe, can you understand that? And I'm trying to move on, but I can't. I think about her all the time, I can't stop thinking about her, the only thing I really want out of life is to be with her. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but I can't deny my feelings."   
  
***  
  
Monica stumbled to a kitchen chair and sat down, while Richard's voice continued to pour through the wall.  
  
"Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning with a piece missing? To know that you've met your soulmate, the person you were meant to be with, the person that made you happier than anyone else ever has, and that you let that person slip through your fingers? Do you, Phoebe?"  
  
Chandler looked at Monica, watching the anguish on her face. She buried her face in her hands. He wanted to go to her, comfort her, but something held him back.  
  
Richard continued. "I love Monica, Phoebe. I love her so much. I've never loved anyone like that, and I'm finally admitting to myself that I never will. And I want her to be happy. And she must be happier with Chandler than with me, because she's with him. Do you know how much that kills me? I can't even hate Chandler for it, because I like him so much. But he has the woman I love more than anything, and I have to keep telling myself that he must love her more than I do, although I don't see how it's possible. I had to do the right thing, I had to tell him to go to her, because he loved her so much, and being without her was killing him. Of course it's killing me too... I... Phoebe, I don't know what to do. But I'm sorry I hurt you."  
  
"Richard... you know... I'm not that hurt. I'd be stupid to be that hurt. I mean, any idiot can see how much you love Monica. But, y'know, it couldn't be more over between us."  
  
"Well, I guess I should leave, then."  
  
"I guess you should."  
  
They heard Richard's footsteps echoing down the stairs. Monica lowered her hands and looked at Chandler, tears running down her face. "Chandler... it's not what you think... I don't know why I'm crying, I..."  
  
"Go." He said softly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me, go, catch him before he leaves."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
Chandler swallowed deeply. "I'm saying that you're my best friend, and I want you to be happy. So go, dammit."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Will you get out of here? I'm not as good at this selfless shit as Richard is."  
  
"Chandler, I..."  
  
"Okay, I'm breaking up with you. Consider yourself dumped on your ass. Engagement's off, keep the ring, I don't care, get your ass moving down the stairs!"  
  
Monica got to her feet unsteadily and stared at him, slack-jawed.  
  
"Hey," he said soothingly, crossing to her, "You wanna see something cool I learned from Rachel?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Chandler put his left hand on her left side, pushed her over to the door, expertly opened it with his right hand, shoved Monica through the doorway, and slammed the door behind her.  
  
***  
  
Monica stumbled, whipping around and staring at the slammed green door in confusion.   
  
"Do you want me to push you down the stairs?" Phoebe screeched. "Go, woman, go!!"  
  
Light came back into Monica's eyes, and she sprinted for the stairway.  
  
***  
  
"Richard, wait!" Monica screamed.  
  
He paused, half-in a taxi, and she barreled over, pushing him the rest of the way in, scrambling in behind him, and slamming the door shut.  
  
"Um, could you give us just a second?" Richard asked the cabbie.  
  
"Richard. I love you too. I love you so much."  
  
"Um... this isn't the question that's really foremost on my mind, but, uh... what about Chandler?"  
  
"Chandler just dumped me."  
  
"Oh my god, when?"  
  
"About thirty seconds ago."  
  
They lunged for each other, lips meeting in a bruising kiss, reaching out in a fevered dream to touch, to believe this was really happening.  
  
--------------  
  
To be continued... 


	9. PART ONE: Oral Hygeine

Chandler crawled out on the balcony, watching Monica and Richard's cab drive away.  
  
Yeah, this was definitely a rest-of-the-pack moment.  
  
He had just lit one when Phoebe appeared at the window and began pulling herself through it.  
  
"I'm not putting it out, don't even ask."  
  
"I wasn't gonna. So... how you doing?"  
  
"Well. Weird. But I guess you know something about that, since you just broke up with someone in the last fifteen minutes too."  
  
"Nope. Oooh, look, a pigeon!"  
  
"What do you mean, nope? If you didn't break up with Richard, I hate to tell you, I'm pretty positive your boyfriend is about to cheat on you."  
  
"I was never dating Richard."  
  
"WHAT??"  
  
"Nah, the whole thing was a ruse. Hello, could you please at least blow your death cloud somewhere besides my face?"  
  
"A ruse? Explain, or you're getting a lot more than smoke in your face."  
  
"Richard and I were fake-dating, to make Monica jealous, so she'd realize she was in love with Richard."  
  
"Let me get this straight. You're telling me that you lied to all of us, for the sole purpose of breaking up my marriage... and you're telling me this on the roof of a very tall building? Not smart, Pheebs."  
  
"I did it for you, Chandler. Well, for the four of you."  
  
"The four of us."  
  
"You, Monica, Ross, and Rachel. Also Richard, I guess, so that would be five. And some other people."  
  
Chandler sat down with a heavy sigh. "You're making my brain hurt. I know it's not your preferred way of doing things, but could you make sense for the next five minutes?"  
  
"Okay, Chandler. The last few months with Monica, have you been happy?"  
  
"Not by the standard definition, no."  
  
"So, let's see. Ross is out of the way, he's in Dinotopia with Wendy. Monica's out of the way, she's cabbing down to Richard's apartment. Now, huh, hmm, who does that clear the way for?"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Don't be Dense Boy, Chandler. Could you BE more in love with Rachel?"  
  
"I am *not* in love with Rachel."  
  
"Well, that's a damn shame, because she's in love with you."  
  
"What? What? What-what-what?"  
  
"Still not in love with Rachel?"  
  
"Oh my god, she... I thought... but..."  
  
"You love Rachel. Rachel loves you. The real question is, why are you out here with me, suckin' on a coffin nail, when you could be over there, gettin' some Green?"  
  
"Oh god. Oh, god. What do I do? What do I do?"  
  
"Well for starters, you brush your teeth. I mean, y'know, ick."  
  
***  
  
"Chandler?" Rachel called, stepping into the purple apartment. "Um, Chandler? Phoebe said you needed to see me...?"  
  
Chandler emerged from the bathroom, wiping his mouth. "Yeah, I was just... brushing my teeth."  
  
"Mmm, oral hygiene, interesting, yeah... what the hell just happened?"  
  
"Well. Phoebe and Richard broke up."  
  
"I *heard* that!"  
  
"And I broke off my engagement with Monica, and she left in a cab with Richard."  
  
Rachel gaped. "What?"  
  
"I broke off my engagement with Monica, and she left in a cab with Richard."  
  
"No-no, I mean, I heard, I just... whoa. And you, you are very calm and sort of smiling, why are you very calm and sort of smiling?"  
  
"Well, I guess it's for the best."  
  
"Seriously, Chandler, how many of Monica's Valium did you take?"  
  
"None. Well, okay, three. But not because of the engagement. There was something else I was freaking about."  
  
He stepped towards her and smiled. "But, y'know, good-kind of freaking."  
  
"Okay, now you're freaking *me* out, Chandler..."  
  
"You think you're freaked out now? Wait until about five seconds from now."  
  
"Why? Wha-what happens in five seconds?"  
  
Chandler strode over, took Rachel's face in both hands, and kissed her softly. Rachel stood still in shock for a moment, then returned the kiss passionately, letting her fingers crawl up into his hair, eyes closed and flying.  
  
Chandler broke the kiss and ran his thumb down Rachel's cheek.  
  
"Rach... I love you."  
  
"Oh my god, I love you too, but this is huge, this is crazy, this is..."  
  
He cut her off with a brief kiss, and grinned.  
  
"So, Rach. You, uh... you and Joey looking for another roommate?"  
  
***  
  
Phoebe quietly let herself into Rachel and Joey's apartment. Joey was sitting silently in the Barcolounger, staring at the unpowered television. He saw her reflection in the black screen and sighed.  
  
"So, Pheebs. You broke up with Richard."  
  
"Kinda-sorta, yeah."  
  
"And Rachel and Chandler...?"  
  
"Are making out."  
  
"And Monica and Richard...?"  
  
"The same, probably."  
  
"Well. That's... huh."  
  
"So, uh, you okay, Joey? I know you had that crush on Rachel..."  
  
Joey laughed. "I never had a crush on Rachel."  
  
"But -- you said you did! You told me all about..."  
  
"The friend I was developing feelings for, the friend I was all depressed about, the friend I felt I couldn't tell? I changed the name so I could talk to you about it, Pheebs, it was you."  
  
"It was me?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"It was always me?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Joey Francis Tribbiani, I am going to kick your ass!"  
  
He sunk lower into the recliner. "And you wondered why I didn't want to tell you."  
  
"Do you have -- no you don't -- you have *no idea* what I just went through to get Rachel out of the picture! I had to fake-date Richard, and find a dino-girl, and have Monica glare at me for months, and smell cigar smoke, and..."  
  
"Fake-date Richard?"  
  
"I had a whole freaking plan! I engineered a ground war on eight fronts, and the whole time, you loved me too? Ross and Wendy and Monica and Richard and Chandler and Rachel and... aargh!"  
  
"So basically, what you're saying here is that I love you, and you love me?"  
  
"Yes! Arggggh!"  
  
"And so we're screaming... why?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
"Well, come on, woman! Get over here!"  
  
Phoebe skipped across the room, leaped into Joey's lap, and proceeded to kiss him thoroughly.  
  
"Oh, wow," she gasped. "So worth it."  
  
"Hey, now, that's just the comedian," Joey grinned. "Wait until Pink Floyd comes out."  
  
--------------  
  
END PART ONE. 


	10. PART TWO: Oatmeal Goodness

Monica let herself into her apartment, nerves drilling a hole in the pit of her stomach.  
  
"Chandler?"  
  
No answer.   
  
Something about the apartment was funny. She looked around, disoriented. Everything was where it belonged, wasn't it? White couch next to the big armchair, coffee table in the...  
  
No Barcalounger. No Barcalounger. And the furniture had all been carefully moved back to where it had been before Chandler had ever moved in.  
  
She ran to the bedroom, throwing open the closet door. All his clothes were gone.  
  
She sprinted across the hall, banging on Joey and Rachel's door. Chandler answered, clad in his blue plaid bathrobe.  
  
"Well, hello," he grinned.  
  
"Um, hi. Is it 1997?"  
  
Chandler laughed. "I moved my stuff back over here. I didn't exactly have a ton to carry. How are you? How was your night? You want a cookie? They're Phoebe's special oatmeal ones."  
  
"Wh... I... who are you? Have you been in my Valium?"  
  
"Okay, people need to quit asking me that. Come on in, Mon."  
  
She walked inside, noting the extra Barcolounger, the hanging tapestries, the folded massage table...  
  
"Wait. Wait. Okay, I can sort of understand what your stuff is doing here. But what the hell is Phoebe's stuff doing here? She broke up with Richard, not Ross."  
  
"You should sit down. And you should eat a cookie."  
  
Monica plopped into Rosita, staring at Chandler with frank curiousity as he crossed to the counter and rummaged in the cookie jar.  
  
"So, Mon... did you and Richard get any, um, talking done last night?"  
  
She flushed. "Not really, why?"  
  
"Just wondering if he'd cleared some stuff up, or if I was gonna have to." He thrust a cookie into her hand, and took the other Barcolounger.  
  
"So. Did Richard tell you that he was never really dating Phoebe?"  
  
"What??"  
  
"Wow, you guys really skipped straight to the sex. Y'okay. Here goes. Bite your cookie."  
  
"Why are you so insistent that I eat this cookie?"  
  
"Because with your mouth filled with oatmeal goodness, you can't scream at me."  
  
Chandler waited until Monica had taken a bite, then began.  
  
"So, okay. Joey liked Phoebe, but he thought she didn't like him, and he was all upset."  
  
"Thasswhyhesbeenallweirdlately?" Monica said, mouth full of cookie.  
  
"You concentrate on chewing. Anyway, he was trying to talk to Phoebe about it, and he ended up giving away too much... 'cause, you know, Joey's the master of sublety... so to cover his butt, he told her it was Rachel he was in love with."  
  
"Thassostup..."  
  
"I said chew, woman. Anyway, turns out, Phoebe liked him back, so she was all upset about this Rachel thing. And she didn't know what to do, until she went to your parents' party and talked to you about Kip... who, by the way, is a major, major buttmunch... and got an idea for how to get Rachel out of the picture, and accomplish, um, some other stuff at the same time."  
  
"Sheisso..."  
  
"Chew! Anyway, she started talking to Richard about you, and she got the idea to fake-date Richard, to make you jealous, so you'd leave me and go to him."  
  
"They never dated?"  
  
"Nope, it was a clever ruse."  
  
"Just to make me jealous? Just to break us up?"  
  
"Worked, didn't it?"  
  
Monica crossed her arms in annoyance. "I still don't see what this has to do with Rachel."  
  
"Okay, you need another cookie."  
  
"I don't want another cookie. Finish the freaking story."  
  
"So she and Richard set up Ross and Wendy, to get Ross out of the picture."  
  
"But -- why would they want Ross out of the picture? I mean, shouldn't they want Ross *in* the picture? I thought the point was getting Rachel away from Joey. This makes no sense."  
  
"Okay, first off, Richard didn't know about that part of the plan. And they had someone else in mind for Rachel besides Ross."  
  
"Oh my god! Who?"  
  
Chandler took a deep breath. "Um, Monica... me."  
  
Monica laughed. "Oh my god! How stupid! Well... did at least the Phoebe and Joey part of their plan work?"  
  
"Monica, the whole plan worked."  
  
"I don't follow."  
  
"Ross and Wendy, you and Richard, Phoebe and Joey, me and Rachel."  
  
"You and Rachel."  
  
"Me and Rachel."  
  
"You... and Rachel."  
  
"How many times are you gonna keep saying it?"  
  
"You cheated on me with Rachel?"  
  
"No, no, I didn't! I absolutely did not. We didn't even find out how each other felt until last night, after you left."  
  
"So you had feelings for Rachel?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"While you were engaged to me??"  
  
"Um, hello? Richard? Hi? Pot, kettle, blackness?"  
  
"I can't believe you had feelings for Rachel!"  
  
"Monica, this situation is what is known as 'a happy ending', please try to appreciate that."  
  
"A happy ending? A happy ending? How is this a happy ending? My best friend... my fiance... was running around having feelings for my other best friend? This is supposed to warm my heart?"  
  
"Okay... Mon? Maybe you didn't notice, but you just ran off with your ex-boyfriend after you and I had been together for over two years!"  
  
"You made me!"  
  
"You wanted me to make you! And that is not the point! The point is that, by all rights, I should be the one screaming at you, or at least making you feel hideously guilty! But I'm not! I'm happy! That's good! Or at least it was, the last time I checked!"  
  
"So when you told me to go to Richard, you were trying to get me out of the way so that you could be with Rachel?"  
  
"Oh... my... god! Monica, you're with the love of your life now! And instead of having to go through some horribly messy, painful thing with me, you squirmed out scot-free! Can't you be happy about that?"  
  
"I did not *squirm* out of anything!"  
  
"Okay, okay, poor word choice, but Monica, still..."  
  
"So, wait, wait just a minute. When you moved back in here... you didn't move back in with Joey, did you? You moved in with Rachel! Oh my god, we were engaged yesterday, and you've moved in with Rachel!"  
  
"Monica! Do you see that couch? That's where I slept. That's where I'll *be* sleeping. And pardon me for assuming, but I don't think you crashed out on Dr. Burke's sofa last night, did you?"  
  
"You haven't slept with Rachel?"  
  
"Not... yet."  
  
"Not yet. But you will, is that what you're saying?"  
  
"It's part of the general long-term plan, yes."  
  
"Did you kiss her?"  
  
"That, I did."  
  
"Did you do any other stuff?"  
  
"Monica, what *is* this? You-had-sex-with-Richard! That disqualifies you from participating in this year's Jealousy Semifinals!"  
  
"So I'm just supposed to be okay with this? You and Rachel? Hey, I've got a great idea, I'll just call up Emily and Mindy, we can form a little Rachel-Stole-My-Groom support group."  
  
"Okay, do not, do not, do *not* blame this on Rachel. Rachel had stood by you every step of the way through this."  
  
"Standing by me with her hand on your ass!"  
  
"Rachel did nothing wrong! Absolutely nothing! She tried so freaking hard to make you happy, to do the right thing, to do what she thought you wanted! You know, the whole time I was having doubts, it was Rachel telling me to stay with you!"  
  
"You were having doubts? Before Richard?"  
  
"Before, during, after... Monica, you were kind of treating me like crap."  
  
"I was NOT!"  
  
"Oh, huh, gee, wonder why I was so freaking *miserable*, then?"  
  
"Oh! Oh! Ohhhh!" Monica yanked furiously at her left hand ring finger. "I don't want this. I don't want this at all. I... I can't get it off, but if I could, I would so be throwing this at your head!"  
  
"Probably your finger's bloated from all the sex you had with Richard while you were still wearing my engagement ring!"  
  
Monica marched to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind her.  
  
"Well gee," Chandler said to the air around him. "That went well."  
  
--------------  
  
To be continued... 


	11. PART TWO: Death of a Salesman

"Monica, I'm sorry, but Chandler's right," Ross said calmly.  
  
"What? What? What? C'mon, Ross, I was counting on you to freak out about this! This is Rachel! Rachel and Chandler! Chandler and Rachel! Don't you want to go even a little bit 'Red Ross'?"  
  
"Well, huh, gee, um, let's see. I had Julie, who was really awesome, and I ruined it over... Rachel. And then there was Bonnie, and I ruined that over... hmm, still Rachel... and oh, Emily, my wife, blew that one over... oh, wow, that's funny, still Rachel! And in all that time, who did I never seem to end up with for more than five minutes? Oooh... oooh, hey, that's still Rachel. So here I am with Wendy, who's amazing, and makes me really, really happy. Gee, what should I not do, what should I not do... huh, *that's* a puzzler."  
  
"So you seriously don't care about this?"  
  
"Do I want to imagine it in detail? No. Am I sorry my little sister's upset? Yes. Do I want to get sucked into this drama? That'd be a big fat no. Mon, why can't you just accept that everything, miraculously, turned out for the best? How often does that happen for the six of us, seriously?"  
  
"Ross... it's *Rachel*. And *Chandler*."  
  
"Yes, I got that the first seven times you said it. But look... it's also you and Richard. Focus on that, okay? And look at it this way. Imagine how today would have gone if Chandler hadn't developed feelings for Rachel."  
  
"Ross..."  
  
"No seriously, think about it for a second. You come home. There's Chandler. He's crying, he's angry, he hates himself, he hates Richard, he hates you. He has to see you and Richard together, and he's all alone, you're wracked with guilt. Do you really think that would be better?"  
  
"Argh. Argh! I have to go. There's still one human being left on this planet who will flip out about this properly."  
  
"Gonna go talk to Gunther, huh?"  
  
"Duh!!"  
  
***  
  
"Hey, sweetie!" Richard called as Monica slammed into his apartment.  
  
He took one look at her and sighed. "Mon... are you aware that lightning bolts are shooting out of your eyeballs?"  
  
"I just found out about Rachel and Chandler."  
  
"Ahhhh... scotch?" Richard said, not quite meeting her gaze.  
  
"Oh, great!" Monica sighed, dropping into the couch. "You knew, too. Am I *that* oblivious?"  
  
"Honey, are you okay?"  
  
"Just feelin' a *little* betrayed, that's all."  
  
"Well, that's understandable. But Mon, if it makes you feel any better... do you know why Phoebe ended up hauling me over to your hallway for our command performance?"  
  
"No, why?" she asked, accepting her drink.  
  
"Because Rachel and Chandler weren't *doing* anything. They were both so concerned about hurting you, Monica. Phoebe and I waited months for them to cross the line, and you know what? They never would. I don't really think they ever would have. It's why we finally had to call Phase II off and skip right to Phase III."  
  
Richard sat down beside her and put a consoling hand on her thigh. "Rachel and Chandler love you, sweetie. So, so much."  
  
"Yeah, I guess... I guess I understand that. I just... I don't want to see either of them right now, not for a while."  
  
She sighed and sipped her scotch. "Which is unfortunate, since I really ought to call Chandler."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Well... um... let's just say I needed someone to vent to, and... Chandler might not want to drink anything Gunther's delivered for a while."  
  
"You're bad!"  
  
"I know!"  
  
"Tell you what, I'll give Chandler a call later, pass on the warning."  
  
"Oh, you are the sweetest. But that's okay. I mean, I have to talk to Chandler anyway. We have a million things to cancel, stuff he paid for. I'd already booked the band, the chapel, the flowers... I had bridesmaid dresses on order... it's just a huge mess."  
  
"You know, he's going to lose a *lot* of money on that. Those places aren't too keen on full refunds."  
  
"Oh god, oh god, I know."  
  
"Wouldn't it be easier if I just wrote him a check?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well... do you *like* the band, the chapel, and the flowers?"  
  
"Um, yes... it's all what I picked out..."  
  
"So I'll write him a check."  
  
"Richard... Richard, oh my god!"  
  
"Well, this isn't the most romantic way of going about this, I know... I mean, I have the ring, but I was kind of planning to wait until you'd taken that one off."  
  
"Are you...?"  
  
"Well, I *am*. But, you know, the finger's occupied."  
  
"Oh god! Oh, Richard, I was going to take it off, I wanted to... but... but... I can't!"  
  
His face fell. "What... what are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying it's *stuck*!"  
  
Richard laughed loudly in relief. "Oh, oh, okay, thank god. You know, you shouldn't do that to me. I'm old! I could have a heart attack."  
  
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. "C'mon. I'll show you a trick I learned when Michelle got her hand stuck in a jar of Smucker's."  
  
***  
  
The ring finally slid off, and Richard clutched Monica's still-soapy hand, sinking to one knee.  
  
"Monica, I..."  
  
"Richard, I love you, and the answer is yes, but, um, could we do this somewhere else? I really don't want to tell our kids how we got engaged on a fuzzy bathmat."  
  
"The Plaza, then?"  
  
"Oh my *god* you rock!!" Monica squealed, running out of the room.  
  
***  
  
"What is going *on* in there?" Phoebe snapped, staring at the shut bedroom door in frustration.  
  
"I haven't heard anything break, so it couldn't be that bad, right?" Rachel said, drumming her fingers nervously on the countertop.  
  
"I wish he'd hurry up," Joey groused, remote in hand. "I want to find out what happens to Willy!"  
  
"Joey, Willy's a *salesman*," Rachel sighed.  
  
"I know!"  
  
"The movie's called 'Death of a Salesman'."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Oh god, Joey, you figure it out, okay?"   
  
Chandler came out of the bedroom, setting the cordless phone gently back into its cradle. They all turned to him expectantly.  
  
"Well, I'm jokeless. I am utterly without quip. Could you guys all turn to me like that in about five minutes, when my brain is working again?"  
  
"Chandler, what happened?"  
  
"Well, Richard wants to... sublet? ... my and Monica's wedding."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"He wants to buy me out of the wedding. Write me a big check for everything I spent on it, and then marry Monica with it."  
  
"Wow! That is going to save you so much money!" Phoebe chirped, then caught Chandler's look. "Which probably isn't what you were focusing on, was it."  
  
"So what did you say?" Joey demanded.  
  
"Well, I didn't really say anything. Apparently, he was calling me from the bathroom, while Monica changed, but she was ready before we could resolve things. Also, I discovered that I should not have had that latte, but that's a different matter entirely. Y'know, I *knew* I should have bought 'Miss Manners' Guide to Total Insanity' when it was on sale at the Strand!"  
  
"So what are you going to do?" Rachel asked softly.  
  
"Well, I guess I kind of have to go along with it... right? I mean, if I say no, I'm not only going to be the vindictive, petty one... but I'll be the vindictive, petty, poor one. I mean, all the rational, logical parts of my head say that this is a pretty decent idea."  
  
"And the non-rational ones?"  
  
"Well they, of course, are saying 'flarglarglarg'. They tend to lack constructive comments during times like this."  
  
--------------  
  
To be continued... 


	12. PART TWO: Getaway Diversion

Chandler jerked awake on the couch, flinging covers to the floor. Dear God, what was that...?  
  
"Morning's here! Sunshine is here! The sky is clear, the morning's here! The morning's here!"  
  
Ahh, yes. His new alarm clock -- Phoebe and Joey *both* singing along with The Morning Man.  
  
Rachel's door banged open, and she emerged, hair askew and scowling. Clearly she appreciated Joey and Phoebe's new hobby as much as he did.  
  
"Coffee," Rachel growled, then smiled when she saw Chandler. "Ha, ha -- you're as pissy in the mornings as I am!"  
  
"C'mere, grumpus," he grinned, and she belly-flopped on top of him, kissing him on the nose.  
  
Joey and Phoebe came into the living room, wide-awake and smiling.  
  
"What are you guys doing up?" Joey asked, grabbing the coffee bag and the filters.  
  
"Ah, Rach and I thought we'd start off the day with a little choir practice... oh wait, wait, that was you!"  
  
"Admit it," Joey grinned, pointing the measuring cup at Chandler. "You missed me and Morning Guy."  
  
"Joe," Chandler laughed, "I can honestly say I missed everything about living with you *but* that."  
  
"So how did it go with Richard last night?" Phoebe asked, pouring water into the coffeemaker.  
  
"Not bad," Chandler sighed, disentangling himself from Rachel and wiping his eyes. "Freaky and surreal, of course, but I got a big check... oh, and those."  
  
He pointed to a stack of wedding invitations perched on the edge of the foosball table.  
  
"Oh my god," Rachel laughed. "What the hell are you going to do with 200 invitations to a wedding you're not having?"  
  
"Well, I paid for 'em," Chandler shrugged. "And apparently, whiting out my name and scrawling 'Richard' above it in red crayon wasn't Monica's style." He sighed. "I dunno. I guess I'll have the world's most expensive scratch paper, you know." He blocked out an imaginary letterhead with his hand. "From the Failed Marriage of... Chandler M. Bing."   
  
"Did Richard say when the wedding was?"  
  
"Same date... they're using the same booking."  
  
"Oh my *god*," Rachel gasped. "They're getting married in a month?"  
  
"Well, there's not much to do," Chandler smirked. "New invitations, and, of course, painting a little moustache on the groom cake-topper."  
  
"Have you told your parents?" Phoebe asked.  
  
"Nope," Chandler grinned. "Hadn't actually told them about the wedding yet. And you people said family estrangement was a *bad* thing."  
  
"You were getting married in a month, and you hadn't told them yet?"  
  
"Well, I..." Chandler sighed. "I didn't want to give either of them time to think up an outfit, okay?"  
  
***  
  
Rachel pushed the restaurant door open nervously, looking at Phoebe with a sigh.  
  
"Look, Pheebs... I don't know what's going to happen in there... so please don't be offended if I use you as a human shield."  
  
"Okay, but you can't be offended if I stab you with my salad fork," Phoebe replied.  
  
"What?"  
  
Phoebe shrugged. "Getaway diversion."  
  
"Right," Rachel sighed, and walked resolutely over to the table where Monica and Wendy were waiting.  
  
"Hello, ladies," Monica said stiffly, hands clenched in her lap.  
  
"Monica," Rachel and Phoebe said in unison, sitting down at the table.  
  
"Isn't this nice?" Wendy chirped nervously, then trailed off. "Or something."  
  
Phoebe spread her napkin in her lap. "So, let's plan."  
  
"Oh, that's right, you're *great* at 'plans'," Monica spat.  
  
"See, this is going to be *fun*," Phoebe replied sarcastically.  
  
"Let's get down to business," Monica said, pulling out a file folder full of papers. "Here's a list of changes made to the wedding that affect you. There are four bridesmaids instead of two now, so you'll notice that you all have a lot less duties than before. Michelle couldn't be here, but she has her list."  
  
Monica passed crisply Xeroxed sheets around. Rachel noted sadly that every duty she and Phoebe'd had which had required them to actually speak to Monica had been swapped over to Wendy or Michelle.  
  
Monica cleared her throat. "There's also the matter of the apartment. Richard and I have decided to live at his place, and Ross wants to stay where he is... so... as my two ex-roommates, I'm offering my sublet to you two, if you want it."  
  
"Oh my god," Rachel breathed.  
  
"Woo-hoo!" Phoebe shrieked, throwing her fist into the air.  
  
"Not woo-hoo," Rachel cried, smacking Phoebe's hand back down. "Didn't you hear her? She's moving away!"  
  
"Oh, right," Phoebe said. "Bummer."  
  
"Monica, *please* don't go," Rachel begged. "Can't you and Richard live at your place?"  
  
"Yeah, right!" Monica cried. "Cause *that* wouldn't be weird at *all*!"  
  
"It won't be weird forever! Ross and I were weird, remember? You get over it! You move on!"  
  
"Ross cheated on you with someone *outside* the group, Rach... you both went on to date people outside the group. How much harder would it have been if he'd cheated on you with Phoebe?"  
  
"Don't put *me* in this," Phoebe said in horror.  
  
"You put *yourself* in this, Plotty Plotterson," Monica snapped.  
  
"Oooh, yes, Monica, I'm *reeeeally* sorry that I got you out of the engagement you were bitching about and back with the love of your life. Can you *ever* forgive me for the *terrible* thing that I did?"  
  
"And hey, while we're yelling?" Rachel slammed her wine glass down. "Chandler did not *cheat* on you, okay?"  
  
The girls began to screech at each other while heads whipped around to stare at them. Their noise stopped abruptly when Wendy threw her dinner napkin in between them and shoved her chair back.  
  
"Where are you going? We're not done yet!" Monica cried.  
  
"I'm sorry, you guys, but count me out," Wendy said, grabbing her purse from the back of the chair. "I'm not going through two more weeks of this crap, no way."  
  
"Sit back down," Rachel soothed. "We'll just talk about wedding stuff, we swear."  
  
"Um... lemme think about it... no," Wendy replied. "Look, Monica, I'm flattered that you want me to be a bridesmaid... but I'm not getting sucked into this. I've got too many friends with real problems to sit around listening to you guys bicker and whine over the mechanics of how you all became ecstatically happy."  
  
"Wendy... Wendy, wait," Monica said, grabbing her arm. "Hang on, okay?"  
  
Monica turned to Phoebe reluctantly. "Thank you for what you did. I might think your methods suck... but... I really am a lot happier now." She turned to Rachel and took a deep breath. "And thank you... for taking care of Chandler. I'm... I'm glad he's happy, I really am."  
  
"I'm sorry I went behind your back," Phoebe replied, eyes downcast.  
  
"I'm sorry I'm dating your ex-fiancee," Rachel mumbled.  
  
Wendy turned on her heel and headed away from the table.  
  
"Wait... wait... you're still leaving?"  
  
Wendy turned around with a grin. "Yeah, I really have to pee. But now, I'm coming back afterwards."  
  
***  
  
"This place looks *so* weird," Joey said, setting a box on the table and looking at the empty blue shelves with a shiver.  
  
"Not on the table," Monica called, marching through the living room with a dresser over her head. "That's leaving next."  
  
"Do you guys own *any* furniture at all?" Wendy asked Rachel, wrapping glasses in bubblewrap and staring at the cavernous open space where Monica's meticulously arranged faux clutter used to be.  
  
"Not really, no," Rachel sighed. "There was a fire, and... it's a long story."  
  
"It'll be cool, though," Phoebe added. "We can have raves." She began to dance horribly as a demonstration.  
  
"You know, if you want, Richard might sell you his furniture," Monica offered.  
  
"Uh-huh, yeah, 'cause you know how I *dig* leather," Phoebe joked.  
  
Monica's face fell. "Just trying to be nice," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"I was just kidd--" Phoebe began, but Monica brushed past her and headed for the bedroom.  
  
"Well, thank God, 'cause I was worried we might have awkward moments," Chandler quipped, flinging his sweaty hair out of his eyes and hefting a box.  
  
"Sweetie, you're drenched," Rachel smiled, putting a hand to his clammy forehead. "Why don't you take a break for a minute?"  
  
"I think there's only two more boxes in..." Monica stopped in the bedroom doorway, staring intently at Chandler and Rachel. They froze in place, guilty expressions on their faces.  
  
"Only two more boxes in there," Monica finished awkwardly. "But I'll get 'em."  
  
Monica went into box-carrying overdrive, studiously avoiding Chandler and Rachel's eyes. The others followed suit, moving in sweaty silence.  
  
"Last trip," Ross announced, wiping his face with his shirttail before picking up the ottoman.   
  
"Oh, hey -- It's so cute!" Wendy picked something up out of an open shoebox. "You guys, what's this?"  
  
"That would be... a sock bunny," Chandler scratched his nose awkwardly.  
  
"Which, um, you might want to wash your hands after touching, really..." Monica added.  
  
Chandler and Monica shared a mischevious glance, and Rachel swallowed hard.   
  
"You, um... you keeping that?" Chandler asked lightly, looking into Monica's eyes.  
  
"Yeah, I... I thought I would," Monica replied. "You mind?"  
  
"No, I... I don't mind. I'm kinda glad."  
  
They smiled at each other warmly. Rachel became very interested in the packing tape on a box of fancy guest towels.  
  
Ross watched the moment linger, his unease deepening. "Hey, let's get this last load down to the truck before it gets dark, okay?"  
  
***  
  
"So... uh..." Phoebe said softly when the last of their friends were gone. "You wanna flip for the big room, or what?"  
  
Rachel hugged her arms around herself. "Y'know what? You take it."  
  
"But the closet's so much bigger... and you have three times more clothes than I do..."  
  
"So I have too many clothes," Rachel snapped, then softened. "Sorry, Pheebs... it's just... that was *their* room. For over a year. And I... maybe... I'm not handling that as well as I could be."  
  
"It'll be weird for a while," Phoebe said reassuringly.  
  
"It's just... I guess I didn't think about it all the way through. How weird it would be. How much I'd end up comparing myself to Monica."  
  
"C'mon, Rach, you can't compare yourself to..."  
  
"But it's right there in my face, Pheebs. I mean... what if he dates me just as long as he dated Monica... and shows zero interest in marrying me? God, how would I feel then? I've just... never dated someone whose last relationship I had a, you know, front-row seat and freakin' backstage pass for."  
  
"Is that why you haven't...?" Phoebe asked gently.  
  
"Partly," Rachel said, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "And, I mean, the longer we put it off, the more freaked I am about it, y'know? I mean, Monica and Chandler actually tried not to have a relationship, right? And they 'just couldn't stay away from each other'. What does it mean that he *can* stay away from me?"  
  
"It means that he knows how weird this is, and that's all it means! Come on, Rachel, look at how you two have spent your first month together! Which would have been the more magical night for you two to consummate your relationship, huh? The night you got home from your bridesmaid's dress fitting, or the night Monica gave his stuff back? Or huh, maybe after the big party at Monica's parents, oooh, where everyone called Wendy 'Rachel'? C'mon, you guys have been up to your ears in emotional baggage."  
  
Phoebe wrapped an arm around Rachel. "The wedding's in two days, and after that, you guys will have some time that's all about you." She grabbed Rachel by the hand. "C'mon, let's get you some tissue."  
  
Phoebe pulled Rachel into the bathroom, then stared in annoyance at the empty toilet paper holder. "Damn, when she moves out, she really moves out."  
  
"Did you see that look, though?" Rachel sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. "With the sock bunny? I mean, what the hell was that? I just... I just don't think they're really over each other, you know?"  
  
"Tissue, tissue," Phoebe mumbled, and finally plucked one out of the trash can. "Here you go."  
  
Rachel accepted it and blew her nose loudly. "Thanks... are there any more?"  
  
"Um... sure..." Phoebe stuck her hand deeper into the trash.   
  
"It's just like... there's still something between them, you know? A connection. Maybe it's just history, you know, or familiarity, but it feels like it's more than that..."  
  
"Oh shit," Phoebe said loudly, looking at a white stick in her hand.  
  
"What?" Rachel said. "Oh gross, did you get that out of the trash?"  
  
"Look at it," Phoebe shrieked.  
  
"Oh my god," Rachel whispered. "Is that Monica's?"  
  
"No, it's mine, I like to come over here and pee on sticks! Of course it's Monica's!"  
  
"Oh my god. Oh my god! If she just found out she was pregnant, then it could be..."  
  
"Either one of them," Phoebe finished. 


	13. PART TWO: A Minimalist Thing

"Rachel?" Phoebe called, knocking lightly on the door. "You're not still in there clutching something that someone else peed on, are you?"  
  
No answer. Phoebe sighed deeply. "Can I come in?"  
  
Rachel mumbled something that sounded like assent, so Phoebe pushed the door open. She found Rachel cross-legged on her air mattress, staring intently into the screen of Chandler's laptop, which she'd perched on a cardboard box.  
  
"Well, I just *love* what you've done with the decor," Phoebe drawled. Other than the air mattress and the boxes, the room was completely empty.  
  
"Yeah, I'm goin' for a minimalist thing," Rachel said, picking up the pregnancy test off the box and shaking it. "Thought this could be kind of the 'focal point'."  
  
"Did you tell him why you wanted to borrow that?" Phoebe asked, gesturing at the laptop.  
  
"Told him I wanted to shop for furniture online," Rachel replied, fingers flying in a fresh burst of typing.  
  
"But you're really...?"  
  
"Look at this," Rachel said, pushing the laptop so Phoebe could see the screen. It displayed a calendar, with different days in pastel colors. She pointed at the display. "I found this website with a calculator. See here? I remember Monica complaining about cramps when we went to Bloomingdale's, so we can kinda guess her last period, especially since she'd have to wait until her period was due to take the test. Monica empties the trash every Monday, so we know the test is no more than three days old. And see, that puts her ovulation right *here*..." she circled her finger at a set of days displayed in powder blue, "... which means..."  
  
"You've gone totally psycho in just an hour and a half?"  
  
"Phoebe!" Rachel snapped. "No, it means that..."  
  
"No, I get it, I get it. I'm just worried about you, all caught up in this new math for obsessives. Are you *aware* that you're wearing your glasses?"  
  
"I am not *obsessive*." Rachel pushed her glasses up self-consciously. "And the screen was giving me a headache."  
  
"Rachel, look. Monica's getting married in *two days*. Do you seriously think she'd be doing that if she thought there was any chance she was having Chandler's baby?"  
  
Rachel flicked a lock of hair away in irritation. "Of course, of course you're right, Phoebe...! 'Cause there's nothing Monica would enjoy more than calling off her wedding... for the second time in a month... *and* explaining to everyone involved *why* she's doing it."  
  
"So what do the little blue days mean?" Phoebe asked, sitting down next to Rachel quickly.  
  
"These days are the days Monica could have conceived... going on the preliminary data we have, which is, of course, limited and hypothetical."  
  
"Look at you, all Rossed out," Phoebe grinned. "'Preliminary Data'... 'Hypothetical'"  
  
Rachel pointedly ignored her. "Check it out. Right smack dab in the middle is the day that she and Richard hooked back up. So if she conceived here... it's Chandler. And here... it's Richard."  
  
"So she and Chandler would have had to get it on right here?" Phoebe pointed at two blue days.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, it's probably Richard's. I mean, that was right before they were fighting enough to break up -- how busy could they have gotten?"  
  
"Yeah, but think about Monica today. She's been all 'Chandler sucks!' ever since this whole thing happened... and suddenly, today, she's all... keeping his sock bunny a-and having little moments with him?"  
  
"Look, Rach. Basically, no one knows what's going on right now but Monica, right? I mean, this whole pink-and-blue thingey here is just a guess... you don't even know when she had her period, or when she took the test, and you're driving yourself totally crazy."  
  
"Yeah," Rachel admitted, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes.  
  
"So... let's go get some food, okay? Monica will tell us when she knows what's going on."  
  
"Yeah, okay," Rachel agreed, following her out the door.  
  
***  
  
"What are you looking for again?" Joey asked through a mouthful of cereal.  
  
Chandler looked up from the drawer he was rummaging through. "My key to Rachel and Phoebe's."  
  
"Look, man, give up," Joey sighed. "Now that Monica's gone, there's never gonna be any food over there worth stealing."  
  
"No, no," Chandler said, opening another drawer, "I have this awesome plan."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Well, Rachel borrowed my laptop today, to shop for furniture online, right? And I know her, okay? She'll spend a bunch of time looking at the expensive stuff she really wants, then give up and buy crap she doesn't really like but can afford."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"And if I get over there and get my laptop before she shuts it down, I can tell which pages she looked at the longest, and buy that stuff for her as a surprise."  
  
"You... you can tell what sites people were at the longest?" Joey said nervously.  
  
"Yeah, I've got a program installed," Chandler said, then noticed Joey's look. "Not exactly shocked ya looked at porn, Joe...!"  
  
Chandler held up a keyring triumpantly. "Boo-ya."  
  
***  
  
"I'm goin' out on a limb and guessin' that the room *without* the beaded goddess curtain is Rachel's," Joey said, opening the fridge with a sigh. "Soy junk and Diet Coke... how are we supposed to live on this?"  
  
"I dunno, Joe... we *might* have to buy our own food," Chandler replied, heading for the bedroom door.  
  
"Don't start talkin' crazy," Joey snapped, pulling a carton of Tofutti out of the freezer and grabbing a spoon.  
  
Chandler grinned and opened Rachel's door, crossing to his computer. His eyes fell on a slender white plastic stick resting next to the laptop, and he picked it up disbelievingly. Two blue lines stared at him out of the little window.  
  
He dropped it with a clatter, leaned over his computer, and touched the space bar. His exploding sheep screensaver disappeared, revealing a pastel calendar.  
  
"Last period," he whispered to himself, his eyes scanning the screen, "Probable due date..."  
  
"Oh shit," he said in horror.  
  
Joey looked up from his Tofutti as Chandler burst through Rachel's bedroom door. "C'mon, we're leaving."  
  
"Did you find the furniture...?"  
  
"Found a hell of a lot more than that! C'mon, put that back, they can't know we were here."  
  
"But I'm almost finished," Joey said, pointing at his nearly empty container with his spoon.  
  
"So take it with you. We have to get out of here."  
  
"What the hell...?" Joey followed Chandler as he practically sprinted out and carefully locked the door behind them before slamming into their own apartment.  
  
Chandler collapsed onto the yellow sofa and put a throw pillow over his face.  
  
Joey set the Tofutti down on the counter. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"  
  
"Raffuhgrent," came the voice from behind the pillow.  
  
"*Without* the pillow over your head?"  
  
Chandler threw the pillow violently into the corner. "Rachel's pregnant."  
  
"Oh my god! Well, congratulations!"  
  
"It's not *mine*," Chandler snapped.  
  
"Dude... how do you know?"  
  
"Because I haven't had sex with her yet! Or done anything where my guys could get anywhere near her... girls, okay?"  
  
"So she was dating some guy before you? I don't remember anyone..."  
  
"I don't either," Chandler said. "But here's the thing... the whole little, ovulation-*thing*, on the computer screen... she got pregnant while she was *with me*."  
  
"Ovu-what?"  
  
"Lemme skip to the good part for ya, Joe... she *cheated* on me."  
  
"Dude... that was *fast*."  
  
"Huh-yeah!" Chandler sprang up and began pacing the room, hands running through his hair. "I mean, I don't understand. Usually women at least wait until they've had sex with me to leave me!"  
  
"Sucks to be you, man," Joey laughed, then sobered, clutching his Tofutti protectively, as Chandler whirled in anger. "Or, you know, somethin' supportive instead."  
  
"I can't believe she would do this to me," Chandler moaned.  
  
"Whoa," Joey said. "Do you think the baby is Ross'?"  
  
"Hadn't thought of *that*, Joe! But thanks a whole hell of a lot!"  
  
"Look -- maybe the test is wrong. Aren't those tests wrong sometimes?"  
  
"If she didn't have sex with someone, why would she take a test at all?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." Joey looked woefully at his spoon.  
  
"I can't... I don't... I have to think," Chandler sighed. "I just... I don't think I can look at her right now."  
  
"Well, you can't *not* look at her," Joey replied. "I mean, you've got the rehearsal dinner tomorrow... and your... I mean, Monica's wedding the day after that..."  
  
Chandler turned and glared.  
  
"Shouldn't have reminded you about that, should I," Joey said sheepishly as Chandler slammed his bedroom door.  
  
***  
  
Monica sat on the bathmat, staring at the sticks she held in her hands.  
  
Positive. Positive. Positive. And for a refreshing change of pace... Positive.  
  
She leaned her head against the wall, thankful beyond belief that Richard was at his bachelor party.  
  
All her life, she'd wanted to be pregnant. All her life, she'd wanted children more than anything. And she'd managed to get pregnant in the one week that she really, really shouldn't have.  
  
"Thanks a *lot*, God," she said aloud, staring at the light fixture in the ceiling.  
  
The ironic thing was -- Chandler hadn't even wanted to have sex that night. He'd been all pissed off and pouty, pretending to be engrossed in TV show so he'd have an excuse to ignore her. She'd forced the issue, practically begged him... so desperate to pretend that everything was fine between them.  
  
And a day later, she'd been back with Richard.  
  
"Why, why, why, why, why," she moaned, beating her head rhythmically against the tile.  
  
The baby was probably Richard's. She and Chandler'd had sex once that week -- she and Richard had practically reached marathon status. But the possibility, the stupid, horrible possibility, still existed.  
  
And while that possibility existed, she *had* to tell Chandler.  
  
And -- oh god -- Richard.  
  
Richard hadn't even wanted to have more kids. He'd really only agreed to it because he wanted to be with her. He'd *definitely* not want to raise kids that weren't even his... right?  
  
And Chandler, god. She'd *just* broken up with him, was supposed to marry another man in two freakin' days. He was with Rachel, her best friend.   
  
She had to call him. Had to tell him. Had to tell them both, before the wedding, before this situation got any more insane. She owed it to them both.  
  
She struggled up from the floor and walked woodenly into the living room, picking up the phone and dialing the number she'd know by heart until she died.  
  
"Hello," Joey's voice answered.  
  
"Joey -- Joey, it's Monica. I need to talk to Chandler."  
  
"Um, yeah... now's not the best time."  
  
"Oh." She bit her lip. "Are he and Rachel, um..."  
  
Joey snorted. "Yeah, not so much. Chandler's just really upset."  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"Well, look." Joey lowered his voice. "Look, I'm gonna tell you somethin', but do me a favor and don't spread it around yet, okay?"  
  
"Sure, no problem..."  
  
"Chandler's really upset 'cause... well, 'cause Rachel's pregnant."  
  
"Oh my god," Monica breathed. "Joey, I have to go... um... I've got stuff in the oven."  
  
Which was only sort of a lie.  
  
"Want me to tell Chandler you called?"  
  
"No... no... if he's upset, I'll just talk to him later."  
  
She pressed the END button and slung the phone across the couch. 


	14. PART TWO: The Sweatpant Phase

"Dammit!" Monica cried, slamming the phone back into the cradle and launching herself across the room. "Dammit, dammit, *dammit*!"  
  
This was insane. This was nuts. This was exactly what she'd always wanted, with just enough stuff changed to make it a living hell. Being pregnant at the same time as her best friend in the world -- how awesome was that? How great would this be, if it wasn't so completely, totally, irrevocably screwed up? She and Rachel crib-shopping, having a baby shower together, letting their kids play in the same little playpen...   
  
Monica paced, digging into her fingernails with her teeth. How in the hell could she tell Chandler now? Especially since it might not even be his baby? And what if it *was*?   
  
"Argh!" she screamed, dropping on the couch and balling up a throw pillow in her lap.  
  
"I didn't do anything *that* bad at my bachelor party," a deep, amused voice said from the doorway.  
  
Monica flushed, then attempted a normal tone. "Hey, honey...!"  
  
Richard threw his keys on the table and approached her warily. "What's up...?"  
  
"Oh, nothing," she said, trying to force her facial muscles into a smile.  
  
"Honey," Richard said, crossing to the bar tray, "If there's something you're stressed about... and not telling me... you might want to consider the possibility that I've already figured it out."  
  
"Huh?" Monica replied, swiveling to face him.  
  
"Well, I'm having a drink," Richard added. "Can I get you something? Milk? Orange juice? Folic acid on the rocks with a twist?"  
  
"How did you know?" she screeched.  
  
"Well, for starters... you might want to hide your tests better," Richard smiled. "You want that milk now?"  
  
"How... how... why are you so calm? How can you possibly be calm?"  
  
"Well, I've spent some time thinking about it," Richard said, crossing into the kitchen. "For you to not come to me screaming with joy the minute you found out, it had to be Chandler's... or maybe Chandler's..."  
  
"It's a maybe, as in very small but still there possibility."  
  
Richard smiled and pressed a bottle of chocolate milk into her hand. "So there you go. And either way, honey... we'll get through this."  
  
Monica merely blinked. "You're not real."  
  
"Oh, but I am," Richard replied. "Last time I checked, anyway. Or did you forget that I *also* have kids that aren't yours?"  
  
Monica wiped away the tears of relief that sprung to her eyes and opened her bottle of milk. "Well, it's actually a lot more complicated. Rachel's pregnant, too."  
  
"Yeah... that does complicate things," Richard agreed, sitting down next to her on the couch.  
  
"I just... I mean, I wanna tell him. I have to tell him. But now that I know about Rachel... I just..."  
  
"You don't want to ruin her pregnancy for what may be no reason," Richard finished.  
  
Monica blinked again. "Yeah. Exactly."  
  
"Well..." Richard sighed. "I did a little research, sweetie. In about three weeks, we could do a paternity test. Chandler wouldn't even have to participate... they could tell just from me and the baby. And if he is the father... *then* we could tell him. I mean, a lot of women don't know until then anyway, right? And if he's not, well, we don't ever have to tell them it was an issue."  
  
Monica clutched her milk and sighed. "That does make sense..."  
  
"Look, here's my opinion," Richard continued. "Let's just not tell anyone you're pregnant at all, not until we know."  
  
"Not tell *anyone*?"  
  
"Just for another month. Then we can have showers and shop for small pastel things, I swear."  
  
"But Richard... I mean... how can I not tell anyone? This is so huge."  
  
"Well hon, let me phrase it this way. The sooner you tell people... the sooner your *mom* is going to know."  
  
"Huh," Monica said, sitting back from the force of dawning realization.  
  
"You're having the baby in... *that* hospital?" Richard keened in a shockingly good Judy Geller impression. "Are you really going to eat *that*? You painted the nursery *that* color? It's... interesting..."  
  
"Yeah, I'm thinkin' I can keep a secret for a while," Monica declared, taking a swig of her milk.  
  
***  
  
"Howdy, neighbor," Phoebe grinned, sneaking up on Joey from behind and kissing his neck. "We still on for tonight?"  
  
Joey turned and took her hands, keeping his voice low. "Yeah, yeah, we are... but... change of plans, okay? We're going out."  
  
"Oooh!"  
  
"Sssh!" Joey said, kissing her on the cheek. "Let's get out of here, okay?"  
  
"What's going on?" Phoebe asked suspiciously as Joey locked the door behind them. "I thought we were gonna rent movies."  
  
"It's Chandler," Joey sighed. "He's havin' a bad night."  
  
"Ohhh," Phoebe replied knowingly. "Did he, uh... did he get some news?"  
  
"You know about the baby, huh," Joey replied.  
  
"Yeah," Phoebe admitted. "Rachel's pretty upset."  
  
"Yeah, well, Chandler's *really* upset."  
  
"Do you think this is going to screw up their relationship?"  
  
"Well yeah!" Joey pushed the outside door open. "I mean, how can Chandler be with Rachel after this?"  
  
"You think he's going to break up with her?"  
  
"Pretty sure, yeah."  
  
"Wow," Phoebe bit her lip. "Wow. That just... that just sucks, so much. Chandler and Rachel never really got a chance to be happy."  
  
"Well..." Joey said sadly. "I guess we're just gonna have to be happy enough for both of 'em."  
  
Phoebe leaned over and kissed him.  
  
"C'mon," Joey said, pulling her hand gently. "Let's talk about something else, right? Have a nice night. I think we're gonna need it."  
  
***  
  
Rachel twisted on the air mattress, trying to get comfortable and failing. She hadn't really expected to have to sleep on this piece of crap... not with her sexy boyfriend and his super-comfy bed about twenty feet away.  
  
Why hadn't he come over?  
  
Did he already know?  
  
She heard the front door click and rolled off the mattress eagerly, brushing her hair into place with her hands as she barrelled into the living room.  
  
"Oh. Hey, Pheebs."  
  
"Hey," Pheebs grinned, arms full of bottles. "Just came for my massage oils."  
  
"Kinky," Rachel said halfheartedly.  
  
"Honey, you okay?" Phoebe set her bottles down on the cardboard box that was serving as their coffee table.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Rachel lied. "Go have the sex."  
  
"I will... in a minute," Phoebe said, moving towards Rachel compassionately. "What are you doing up?"  
  
"Well... my mattress sucks and I... I heard the door open..."  
  
"You thought I might be Chandler," Phoebe finished sympathetically.  
  
"Yeah. Where is he, anyway?"  
  
"He's in his room. He came out to pee once. Other than that... he's been in there all afternoon."  
  
Phoebe moved a piece of Rachel's hair away from her face. "Honey, he knows."  
  
"Oh god," Rachel said, putting a hand over her mouth. "What's he going to do?"  
  
Phoebe's eyes turned vague, and a chill went down Rachel's spine.  
  
"Look, Pheebs... whatever you know... p-please tell me," Rachel stuttered, wiping at her eyes. "This is... this is killing me. If there's bad news, I'd... I'd like to be prepared. Y'know, so I don't..." Rachel's voice cracked, and a tear slid down her cheek. "Do this," she squeaked, fanning at her face.  
  
"Oh, honey," Phoebe cried. "Don't cry...!"  
  
"He's going to break up with me, isn't he," Rachel sniffed, searching Phoebe's face. "Oh god, oh god, he is!"  
  
"He... oh, sweetie... Joey said he thought he would," Phoebe said miserably.  
  
"Well, that's good," Rachel choked. "I mean, good that I know. So when he does it, I can be... I can not be like this, right? I can, I can, I c-can have d-dignity. And stuff."  
  
"Sweetie, I think Chandler's just a little... overwhelmed, right now... not thinking clearly... I'm sure he'll change his mind..."  
  
"Sure, sure," Rachel said, running her middle fingers under her eyelids. "Honey, go, I don't want to mess up your night..."  
  
"You sure you don't want me to stay?"  
  
"Honey, there's..." Rachel took a deep breath. "Nothing and no one could make me feel better right now, okay? I think I need to be alone and think. Go, seriously. It'll make me feel better to know that someone out there is having a good time."  
  
"If you're sure," Phoebe said grudgingly, gathering up her oil bottles.  
  
"I'm sure, honey... go before Joey gets engrossed in Baywatch."  
  
Rachel closed the door after Phoebe, padding to the freezer in her sock feet for the comfort of ice cream.  
  
"Dammit, even the low-fat soy crap ice cream is gone?" she cried, staring at the Boca-Burger-filled, vegan wasteland of the freezer.  
  
The last straw applied, Rachel put her head down on the counter and sobbed.  
  
***  
  
"I don't wanna go," Chandler said stubbornly from the Barcolounger.   
  
"You *have* to go," Joey replied, picking a duck feather off his suit. "Monica's one of your best friends."  
  
"No, I *don't*," Chandler pouted. "*I* am in the Sweatpant Phase! And the *rules* of the Sweatpant Phase *clearly* state that I do *not* have to go to my ex-fiancee's wedding that my cheating, pregnant girlfriend is in!"  
  
"Dude, that is *nowhere* in the rules."  
  
"Well, it should be!"  
  
"Okay, look at it this way," Joey said. "You have twenty seconds to pry yourself outta those sweatpants, offa that Barcolounger, and into a suit before *I* do it *for* you."  
  
"You're bluffing," Chandler said, holding tight to the arms of the recliner.  
  
"Ten... nine... eight..."  
  
"You're so bluffing."  
  
"Four... three... two... okay, I didn't want to have to do this..."  
  
Chandler shrieked as Joey strode over, reached down, picked Chandler up and threw him over his shoulder.  
  
"What the... put me down!" Chandler beat against Joey's back with his fists.  
  
"This is how you wanted it," Joey replied calmly, yanking Chandler's sweatpants off.  
  
"Rape! Rape!"  
  
"Be a man, for god's sake," Joey groaned, carrying Chandler into his bedroom.  
  
"Be a man and let you *strip* me?"  
  
Joey tossed Chandler onto Chandler's bed and crossed his arms. "Be a man, quit whining, get dressed and go to the damn wedding."  
  
"Fine," Chandler snapped, snatching the suit pants Joey had already laid out across the bed. "I'll go. But I'll have you know, I'll be having a big fat childish tantrum on the inside!"  
  
"Fine by me," Joey replied, shutting the door in Chandler's face.  
  
***  
  
"Bride or groom?" the usher asked politely.  
  
"That's an interesting and ironic question," Chandler quipped.  
  
"Bride," Joey interrupted, poking Chandler sharply in the ribs.  
  
The usher led them down the aisle.   
  
"Dude... how come we don't know anybody?" Joey whispered. "Didn't this used to be half your wedding?"  
  
"I had, like, four blue pins," Chandler sighed. "I think everyone we know is *in* the wedding."  
  
"Hey-hey, Carol and Susan, Carol and Susan," Joey hissed. He tapped the usher on the arm. "Yo, we know them, can we sit with them?"  
  
Chandler and Joey slid down the aisle, sitting next to Carol, Susan, and Ben. "Hey, guys."  
  
"Hey," Carol smiled. "How come you guys aren't in the wedding?"  
  
"Well, we were, you know, before," Joey said.  
  
"I actually had a rather large part," Chandler said, earning himself another sharp Joey-poke.  
  
"I'm not really close to Richard, or a relative of Monica's," Joey continued.  
  
"And there were already enough of Monica's ex-boyfriends among the groomsmen," Chandler finished.  
  
"What?" Susan asked.  
  
"Oh, you didn't know? Monica used to date Richard's *son*," Chandler smirked.  
  
"You are being very bad!" Joey shook a finger in Chandler's face. He turned to Susan. "Will you help me make him shut up?"  
  
"Sounds like fun," Susan grinned.  
  
"You know, I think this wedding is actually weirder than ours?" Carol smiled.  
  
"Hey, you have no idea," Chandler replied. "If things had gone as planned, my *parents* would be here."  
  
"Chandler," Joey hissed, poking him in the side again.  
  
"That's not bad! I didn't say anything bad! Quit poking me!"  
  
"Chandler -- your parents *are* here."  
  
Chandler jumped to his feet and whirled in the direction of Joey's pointing finger.  
  
Nora and Charles Bing stood in the doorway.  
  
"Bride or groom?" the usher asked.  
  
"Oh, *groom*," Charles Bing purred, twisting his pearls around a lacquered fingernail. "And do, do take us *right* up front. We're the groom's *parents*."  
  
"His very, very, *very* pissed off parents," Nora Bing added. 


	15. PART TWO: Going To Helena Handbasket

Chandler stumbled over knees as he plowed his way through the aisle. The very confused usher was escorting Charles and Nora towards the front of the room.  
  
"Mom! Dad!" Chandler hissed. "Mom! Dad!"  
  
If they heard him, they were ignoring him.  
  
"Mom!" Chandler tried a little louder. "Dad?"  
  
He gave up trying to blend, jogged down the aisle and caught them both by the arm. "Hey!"  
  
"Well, look who it is," Charles Bing cooed angrily. "It's our boy!"  
  
"Or someone who looks an awful lot like him," Nora continued.  
  
"Not that we'd know, dear..."  
  
"Since he's obviously *ashamed* of us..."  
  
"Why, Nora," Charles sighed melodramatically, putting a delicate hand to his chest and drawing himself up to full, evening-gowned height, "Do you think he was afraid we'd... make a *scene*?"  
  
"Us?" Nora cried, tossing her silver mane. "Why, *never*."  
  
"Mom, Dad, I can explain everything, if you will just come with me, oh god, please?"  
  
"Why, I think he's *embarrassed*," Charles very nearly shouted.  
  
"Which makes it a good time for him to explain... *this*," Nora added at equal volume, thrusting a newspaper clipping in Chandler's face.  
  
"You see," Charles boomed to the assembled guests, "This is our son, the groom. Who didn't invite us to the wedding."  
  
"No, no-no," Chandler replied angrily, "I'm your son, the *guest*, who didn't invite you because it's not-my-damn-wedding!"  
  
Nora inhaled sharply. "What?"  
  
"But thanks for not calling," Chandler spat. "And thanks for just assuming. And thanks a lot for thinking it was appropriate to get *revenge* on my wedding day!"  
  
Chandler whirled, feeling the eyes of every guest on him. "Heya, hiya, hi there, thanks for staring."  
  
"Who the hell are you people?" Jack Geller boomed angrily from the back, stalking down the aisle towards the Bings. "Why are you trying to ruin my daughter's wedding?"  
  
"Jack, these are my parents. Mom, Dad, Jack Geller. My *former* fiancee's father."  
  
"Look, son," Jack demanded. "I'm sorry Monica dumped you, but this is very inappropriate."  
  
"You got *dumped*, honey?" Nora cried.  
  
"Yes, mom, I kinda did. It's a long story, okay? And this *would* have been my wedding, and I *would* have invited you, but she's... marrying someone else."  
  
"She's marrying someone else on your wedding day?" Charles gasped in horror, setting his rhinestones twinkling. "But that's so *tacky*."  
  
"Chandler saved a lot of money!" Jack said defensively.  
  
"It's true, it's true, I did..."  
  
"But *still*," Charles said. "How could she rub my baby's face in it like that?"  
  
"I'm not rubbing his face in *anything*!" a voice shrieked from the hallway.  
  
Rachel emerged suddenly, violently pushed from behind. "Hi-hi, I'm Rachel Green, I'm the maid of honor, hi. I'm sure this can all be resolved, um, if you'd all just follow me into the next room..."  
  
"See, *that's* my girlfriend," Chandler explained.  
  
"You cheated on your bride with the maid of honor? No wonder she dumped you, kiddo!" Nora said in shock.  
  
Jack Geller whirled in rage. "Monica didn't say anything about *that*!"  
  
"I... did... not... cheat... on... *anybody*!" Chandler exploded. "And could we please, *please* not do this here?"  
  
"Look," Richard said, walking down the aisle as calmly as possible. "I'm sure we can get this all sorted out. Let's just everybody calm down, and..."  
  
"Who's this?" Charles demanded.  
  
"That's Richard. *That's* the groom," Chandler sighed.  
  
"Look, uh, Mister Bing?" Richard said awkwardly, "I..."  
  
"You stole my Chandler's fiancee?" Charles squawked.  
  
"Oh god no!" Chandler cried. "He didn't steal anything! Can we please, please just not be here?"  
  
"I don't understand any of this," Nora said. "Who cheated on who?"  
  
"Better ask Rachel," Chandler muttered.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, I heard that," Rachel snapped. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Chandler?"  
  
"Oh-ho, why don't you tell me?" Chandler replied angrily.  
  
"Well, you're making no sense, so you go first!"  
  
"Look. I know about the baby."  
  
"I know you know about the baby!"  
  
"So then you know I know you cheated on me, okay?"  
  
"What? I didn't cheat on you!"  
  
"Oh no? So what, I'm gifted with flying Wonder Sperm?"  
  
"How am I even in this? I'm not the one who's pregnant!"  
  
"You're not?" Chandler and Richard said in unison.  
  
"Wait a minute," Rachel whirled, pointing at Richard, "You think I'm pregnant, too?"  
  
"Look, you don't have to pretend," Chandler said. "I found your calendar, and your little test..."  
  
"That test wasn't *mine*," Rachel cried.  
  
"Then whose was it?"  
  
"It was mine!" Phoebe called, jumping into the hallway and waving her hand. "It was mine, sorry to cause trouble, I'm all kinds of knocked up, everybody go back to the wedding now..."  
  
"What?" Joey shrieked, standing straight up. "Why'd you tell me it was Rachel's?"  
  
"I didn't!" Phoebe said, "You assumed, and I assumed you knew it was..."   
  
Phoebe clapped her hand over her mouth.  
  
"It's not *yours*, Pheebs," Chandler said suspiciously. "Tell the truth. Whose was it?"  
  
"It was mine," Monica said softly, appearing at the head of the aisle with her bouquet drooping from her hand. "It was mine, okay?"  
  
"B-but Mon," Chandler said softly, "I saw that calendar. If it's *yours*, then it might be..."  
  
"Yeah, Chandler," Monica said, wiping tears from her eyes. "That's right." 


	16. PART TWO: Dilled Whatzit

Chandler power-walked over to Monica, taking her by the arm and leading her out of the chapel.  
  
"When were you going to tell me?" he demanded.  
  
Monica pulled her veil up over her head and sighed. "I was going to tell you, Chandler. You have to understand..."  
  
"Okay, see, that's the thing... I don't understand *anything*."  
  
"Excuse me," the priest said, tapping Monica on the shoulder. "I hate to interrupt, but I do have another wedding in an hour. Are you proceeding with the ceremony?"  
  
"Am I proceeding with the ceremony?" Monica asked Chandler, staring him in the face.  
  
"I... I... you're asking me? Why are you asking me?"  
  
"You're the groom?" the priest said in confusion. "I thought..."  
  
"I'm not the groom," Chandler groaned. "I was, now I'm not... oh, go ahead, just let me... collect my freakish parents..."  
  
He started to head off, but Monica caught his sleeve. "Chandler... Chandler, I'm sorry."  
  
"Well, I'm... sorry my parents ruined your wedding," he sighed. "I know how much this means to you, and I..."  
  
"Can we talk later?" Monica begged.  
  
"Yeah, I... I think we really need to."  
  
Chandler walked down the aisle and stopped, facing the crowd. "Hi, everyone, and thanks! I hope you enjoyed our little skit. Monica and Richard have always felt that waiting for a wedding to start was so boring, right?"  
  
The crowd murmured in confusion.  
  
"Hey, everybody, take a bow!" Chandler cried, grabbing Nora by the wrist and pulling her down into a bow. "Everybody, come on!"  
  
Charles, Rachel, Jack, and the others all bowed. The audience began to clap hesitantly, then more confidently.  
  
"Hey, everybody, offstage!" Chandler said in the same cheery voice, heading up the aisle.  
  
Rachel tried to follow him, but her mother caught her arm from her pew. "You were just wonderful in that, sweetie. Very realistic!"  
  
"T-thanks, thanks, Mom," Rachel said awkwardly. "Gotta, gotta get offstage now!"  
  
"Waiting for weddings to start *is* boring," her mother continued approvingly, clapping hard. "Bra-vo!"  
  
Charles continued to bow, and Chandler jogged back down the aisle to retrieve him. "Time and place, dad... time and place..."  
  
"So Mom, Dad," Chandler said when he'd gotten them safely out in the hallway, "Can I buy you a bagel?"  
  
***  
  
Rachel took a sip of her champagne, smoothing the flowered fabric of her bridesmaid's dress over her knees.   
  
"You hiding out here?" her favorite voice in the world called behind her.  
  
She looked up at Chandler, who quickly sat down on the stairs next to her.  
  
"Hey," she said timidly. "How... how was your bagel?"  
  
"It was a meal with my parents. Somehow, they always involve nausea." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "So, it turns out that I'm a total asshole."  
  
"Oh, c'mon," Rachel said, smiling a little. "You're not a... *total* asshole."  
  
"No-no, I am, the other assholes already elected me president."  
  
"Ooooh," Rachel laughed, "A boyfriend in politics. Dad will be so proud."  
  
"So I'm..." Chandler said nervously, "Still your boyfriend?"  
  
Rachel reached out and squeezed his knee. "Well yeah... although, gotta tell you, goin' for a bagel and not bringing me back one... not points in your favor, buddy."  
  
"Well, you were at *Monica's* reception. I figured you'd be stuffed with small, unpronounceable things."  
  
"Ah, y'know, I think I *did* have some Puffy La Blah Blah Blah with Dilled Whatzit, now that you mention it."  
  
"How *was* the wedding?"  
  
Rachel leaned his head on his shoulder, gratified when he leaned back against the wall so that she could rest on his chest. "It was weird. I think most of the guests bought the play thing. Of course, the actual wedding party... a little strained...!"  
  
"How's Judy taking it?"  
  
"When I snuck out, she was on her fifteenth glass of champagne."  
  
Chandler winced. "And... how are you taking it?"  
  
"I'm a little weirded out... aren't you?"  
  
"I passed 'weirded out' about four hours ago," Chandler admitted, dropping his face into Rachel's neck, inhaling deeply. "I've gotta talk to Monica. I just don't think this is the best spot for it."  
  
"What..." Rachel bit her lip. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"Well... if it's mine, whatever I can, whatever Monica will let me do. If it's not, I guess I'll just be... Weird Uncle Chandler."  
  
Chandler raised her hand to his lips. "I gotta admit, this is easier to handle when I'm not terrified that I'm losing you."  
  
"I was so scared that..." she broke off.  
  
"So scared that what?" he asked, brushing his lips over her neck.  
  
"So scared that you'd go back to her, I guess. I mean, you guys have so much history, you know, and the baby..."  
  
"Rachel..." Chandler laughed, sending warm breath down her neck and shivers down her spine. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
He slid her bridesmaid's dress off her shoulder, trailing kisses down her arm. Rachel laughed even as she felt her knees turn to jello.  
  
"Ch-Chandler? Probably... p-probably not the most appropriate place to be doing this..."  
  
"You know what I'm really sick of, though?" he whispered against her skin. "Not doing this."  
  
"Yeah... me too," she whispered back. "But we... we should definitely go back in."  
  
"Rachel?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"If it's mine... what are *you* going to do?"  
  
"I don't know, Chandler. This is already so, so weird. And this... this is like weird on crack."  
  
"Worth it kind of weird?"  
  
"I think so." she traced his lips with a finger. 


	17. PART TWO: A Friendly Game Of Foosball

A/N: Naughtiness warning!  
  
-------------------------  
  
"That's weird," Chandler mused, throwing his keys on the counter. "I thought for sure Joey and Pheebs would beat us here."  
  
"They're, uh." Rachel bit her thumbnail. "Over at my apartment."  
  
Chandler's throat was suddenly dry. "And, um. They're staying there?"  
  
"Judging by the noise? Um, yeah... I don't see them changing locales."  
  
"Well, that's very interesting," Chandler said quickly.  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
"So, uh. *We're* alone," Chandler did a nervous little dance, and Rachel laughed.  
  
"Yeah, I guess we are... anything you, um... wanted to do?"  
  
"I like foosball," Chandler stuttered.  
  
"Foosball it is." Rachel sauntered over to the foosball table, leaning over to retrieve the little ball. She felt heat behind her and smiled.  
  
"Actually," Chandler whispered against her hair, "I like other things better than foosball."  
  
"No way." She let herself melt into him.  
  
"No-no, it's true! I like this dress! It's very nice." He ran his hands up and down her hips. "Very... fabric-y."  
  
"Actually, it's made entirely *of* fabric."   
  
"*That's* fascinating... so, is it lined? I'm very interested in fashion."  
  
"Y'know, I don't remember?" Rachel fake-yawned.  
  
"Well, I'm curious, lemme see..." he trailed his hands down, sliding her dress higher on her thighs. "Oh dear god... you're *wearing* garters...!"  
  
"Oh, yeah... you like them?"  
  
"Merfliggerfleh," Chandler groaned.  
  
"I'll take that as a yes," Rachel grinned. She turned around, hopping up on the edge of the foosball table. "Actually, they're *really* uncomfortable. Could you help me out here?"  
  
Chandler's eyes goggled as she swung her ankle onto his shoulder.  
  
"You are... you are very flexible, Mrs. Robinson," he stammered.  
  
"I was a cheerleader," she grinned naughtily. "I can still do the splits."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind." He paused. "Actually, I don't think I'll be able to think about anything else. Pretty much ever." He ran his hand down the length of her stocking. "These are bothering you, huh?"  
  
"Tremendously."  
  
"Well I... *do* try to help ladies when they need things," Chandler grinned, pulling off her shoe and letting it drop to the floor, letting his hands wander slowly to the top of her garter, unsnapping it and pulling the fabric down. Rachel sighed, her head leaning back as the silky material slid down her leg.  
  
Chandler went down on one knee, removing her other shoe and repeating the process. "Any other intriguing undergarments I should know about?"  
  
"Y'know... it's weird... I can't remember that either. How about you?"  
  
"Oh, y'know, just the standard pink lace teddy I *always* wear to weddings..."  
  
"This I gotta see," Rachel growled, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking him upwards, capturing his mouth with hers.  
  
"You know what?" Rachel said as they broke the kiss. "I hate this tie. This is a horrible tie." She undid the knot and yanked it off, dropping it on the floor. "And this shirt... this is totally not your color." She began furiously unbuttoning it.  
  
"Yeah, I take it back, I *loathe* this dress," Chandler grinned. "Never wear this again." He slid it over her head, tossing it away... then his jaw dropped.  
  
"Okay, I cannot... I *cannot* pretend I don't like that bra."  
  
"Oh, but try," Rachel laughed into his ear, hands on his belt buckle.  
  
"Hey now... keep that up, and you're gonna see my tat."  
  
"Oh, I plan to see a lot of you this evening."  
  
"Do you now," Chandler smiled.  
  
"Yup," Rachel smiled, pulling his belt free from its loops and slinging it across the counter. "Close-up, too."  
  
Chandler swallowed hard. "Feelin' great hate for the bra now."  
  
"You know what would really show it? Throwing it on the floor."  
  
"Good idea!" He quickly did so.  
  
"Still nice like mittens?" Rachel laughed, reveling in the awe on his face.  
  
"Those... were *never*... nice like mittens."  
  
Rachel looked downward, a smile playing over her lips. "So I *didn't* lie to Monica and Phoebe after the handcuff incident."  
  
Chandler ran a finger around the top of her underwear. "Okay if I hate these too?"  
  
"They told me they thought your mother dressed you funny."  
  
"The bastards!" Chandler cried, sliding them off and shaking his finger at them before dropping them to the floor.  
  
Rachel leaned forward, kissing his neck. "Well..."  
  
"We are just all *kinds* of naked."  
  
"So, we playing foosball now?"  
  
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Chandler asked, swinging Rachel into his arms.  
  
"Well, I'd say it made a great code-word... if you didn't do it with Joey all the time..."   
  
"Oh, did I not tell you about me and Joey?" Chandler asked seriously. "You're cool with that, right?"  
  
"Sure! I mean, I did have that dream about the two of you..."  
  
"Okay, call my bluff, call my bluff *right now*!"  
  
"Consider it called," Rachel purred as he laid her down on the bed and crawled next to her.   
  
"Y'know, I'd forgotten about that dream. You wanna wait, do it on the table at the coffeeshop?"  
  
"I don't want to wait one *nanosecond* more," she laughed, drawing him to her.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he grinned as she wrapped her legs around him and all conscious thought left his brain. 


End file.
